#(thank you talia for getting me an education)

[timbourinedrake]

Finally posting the Talia focused animatic I have been working on, because I don't know when I'll get time to finish it and I like it too much to let it rot in my folder.

This is based on the events of Batman: Son of the Demon and the song is Wife by Mitski

I have a whole lot of thoughts on how this song reflects Talia's treatment as a character both within comics and outside of them, and how she is always treated as the mother/daughter/love interest rather than an individual in her own right. These roles are important to her but she is also more than them, she is her own person. I think it's super interesting to look at how Talia would wrestle with balancing these roles whilst also not letting them be her own defining trait.

[bats-and-birds-24]

Chapter 11:

Tim silently wept, as Talia took him to his room. He knew that Jason had no reason to like him, but to think that he hated Batman and didn’t want him to be Robin at all broke him. In his mind’s eye, he could still see Jason’s face simmering with rage. In that moment, he looked nothing at all like the blazingly energetic kid Tim used to idolize.

Talia steered him to the bed and pulled up a chair next to him. 

In between his quiet sobs, all he could get out was, “Why did he get so mad?”

Talia collected herself and began to explain, "That is complicated child, it is a mix of many separate factors, such as the pit rage, an after effect of his resurrection, and then there are Jason’s own unresolved feelings on being Robin.”

As Tim’s tears began to dry and frustration faded, his curiosity was roused, “Are you saying that Jason didn’t want to be Robin?”

“Not quite,” Talia scooted closer to him, “He loved being Robin, but he also loved just having a roof over his head, food on the table, and access to an education. The fact that he was able to help others in his situation was just an added benefit. He was Bruce’s son first, and Robin second.”

As Tim took in the information, he asked, “So that’s why he thinks Bruce used him. He assumed Bruce would treat him like his son, but after he died, he thought he was just Robin to him, a tool.”

Talia smiled, Tim was quick on the uptake, she could see why Bruce chose him to be the next Robin. “Bruce is brilliant, stubborn, skilled, and desperately wants to do good in the world. For all his strengths,  he was never good at understanding people. He just saw that being Robin helped Richard, and assumed that it would do the same for Jason, despite their different temperaments and needs.”

Tim could hardly believe what he was hearing, “Are you saying that Jason shouldn’t have been Robin?” Jason suited the role of Robin perfectly, however, his mind supplied, maybe the role didn’t suit him.

Talia continued, “No, Jason was fated to be Robin. The problem arises from the fact that Bruce treated Jason’s Robin the same way he treated Dick’s Robin. He knew that he would never replace John Grayson in Dick’s life, and treated him as such, but for Jason, both Bruce and Batman were his father. It’s why Dick wouldn’t have been tricked by Sheila, not because he was a better Robin, but because his parents death had shattered his trust in adults. It took Bruce a long time to rebuild that trust, to help him heal, he would have left Sheila in some other capable hands and left at the first sign of trouble. Jason’s faith in humanity was restored when he was taken in by Bruce, so he had no reason to trust that his own so-called ‘mother’ would sell him out to the Joker. Jason’s trust was destroyed after he was brought back from his death.”

Tim nodded mutely. It made perfect sense, Dick saw Robin as a way to get back the crime that had caused the loss of his parents, much like Bruce did, Jason saw Robin as a way to free people from crime. If only Bruce had understood this!

Talia stood up, “Young detective, I’ll be taking my leaving now, I hope you understand where Jason is coming from.”

Tim followed her lead and stood up as well, “Yes, of course, but, could you do me a favor? Can you please tell Jason that I didn’t mean to upset him?” He glanced up at Talia, pleading silently.

She quirked a smile, “I think Jason already knows that, but I’ll make sure to reiterate it.”

Tim gave her a faint smile as she left the room, “Thank You.”

Jason winced at the memory of  meeting Tim for the first time. He looked so excited and hopeful, he had idolized him. All that was crushed because of Jason’s jealousy and spite. Despite this, he still believed that he was right, Bruce was just using the kid to be Robin, and once he’s killed, or broken in some way, he’ll just cast him aside to get a newer model. A part of him bitterly thinks that this must be how Dick felt when he became Robin.

He was wallowing in his emotions when he heard a knock at the door. He already had a feeling as to who it was. 

Talia’s smile from her conversation with Tim vanished when she saw Jason’s state. His eyes were red and puffy, tear tracks were visible on his face and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“Come here habibi.” She pulled Jason close to him. She could feel Jason whisper into her shoulder, “Why didn’t he learn anything?”

Talia pulls them apart, “Oh, child, but he did change.” Jason gave her a choked laugh, “From what I’ve heard, not for the better.” 

She sighed, “That’s true, but to clarify some of your previous doubts, Bruce didn’t manipulate Tim into becoming Robin. He did that on his own.”

Jason frowned at that, “You can’t be serious, I have my fair share of issues with B, but Tim couldn’t have stayed under the radar from him. Especially not if Tim was telling the truth about following us around since he was a child.”

She sat down on a nearby ottoman and began to explain, “That’s what I thought as well, until I began to do my own research. Tim was only ever caught by Bruce once, and following the event, there was a gap of two months where he stopped following you two. When he started stalking you again, he wasn’t caught. I believe that this is because he used his time off to study Bruce’s patterns of observation and used it to stay off his radar.”

Jason was shocked speechless when he heard that. An ugly, pit tainted part of him sneered, “It seems that even at your best, he was still better than you.” As his thoughts swirled in his mind, there was nothing but silence.

Talia got up and prepared to leave when she heard Jason’s shaky voice, “Talia, can, can you tell Tim that I’m sorry for lashing out at him? I,I didn’t mean to…” he trailed off.

A gentle smile graced Talia’s face, “I’ll be sure to pass the message onto him.”

Jason muttered a thanks and laid back down, trying to push away the green seeping into his vision. He was so, so tired.

[snapdragonsimming]

Author's Note and Transcript Under the Cut

(AN: Hello! Thank you for stopping by and checking out my fledgling fundie simblr. I’m by no means new to simblr, but because this blog and story is new, I figure an introduction is due.

So: hey, I’m Talia! I had another fundie simblr a few years back (it’s now inactive for a multitude of reasons), but like a certain someone, I have risen again! My fundie sims obsession was reignited over the summer after I joined a wonderful fundie sims-themed Discord server. Somehow they convinced me to make a new blog, and a few months later, here we are! In the intervening years I continued to lurk, so if you’re an active fundie simblr, I’m probably a fan of your story.

I’ve been playing the de la Cruz family for a while now and they have a special place in my heart- I can’t wait to share them with everyone else! Get ready for lots of God-honoring drama, mildly dubious baby names, and leopard-print modesty undershirts. Note that as the de la Cruzes are fundamentalists and this story is satire-heavy, there will be some viewpoints expressed that I very much disagree with. I’ll trigger tag certain sensitive subjects (e.g. physical violence, miscarriages) as ‘tw [thing]’ but fundie-typical bullshit will go untagged for the sake of my sanity.

Some basic housekeeping stuff to wrap up this far-too-long intro note: I have a queue full of posts ready to go, but I’m a busy student with unpleasant things like homework and AP classes, so I’m still not sure how frequently I’ll post. I’ll do my best to ensure that stays consistent, though, and if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out via my askbox or DMs!)

-

PRAISING HIM!

Every Sunday, Praising Him! features a family dedicated to spreading the Word. Today we meet the de la Cruzes, a San Sequoian family of 16.

When Alejandro and Alina (née Fletcher) de la Cruz married at nineteen, they could not have imagined what would come next! Over the past twenty-six years, the couple has made faith the centerpiece of their lives, and has continued to “Praise Him!” through the ups and downs of busy family life.

Read more about their family below!

-

Alejandro, 45, works as a programmer at United Christian Publishers, and holds a Distinguished Degree in Computer Science from Foxbury Christian University. He began his journey into higher education not at 18, like many students, but at 26, shortly after the birth of his seventhborn, Cecilia! Owing to his unique circumstances, he chose to enroll in a six-year program that enabled him to work full-time as a freelance programmer in addition to his courseload. Though money was tight at times, the Lord provided, and Alejandro welcomed five bundles of joy (including a darling set of twins!) with wife Alina while enrolled at Foxbury. Whew!

Alina, 45, has chosen to fulfill God’s design for women by staying at home with her family. Raised in a devout household, she always knew He was calling her toward marriage and motherhood, and she says the “greatest blessing” in her life was the day she gave birth to her eldest son Gabriel, ten months after her wedding day and just shy of her twentieth birthday. In addition to raising and homeschooling the seven de la Cruz children who have yet to graduate, Alina is active in her church and in Institute for Strong Christian Standards (ISCS) circles, and enjoys spending time with her four (soon to be five!) beautiful grandbabies. A true Proverbs 31 woman if we’ve ever seen one!

You may recognize Gabriel de la Cruz and his lovely wife Esther, 23, from last summer’s print edition of Praising Him! At just 25, Gabriel is a rising star in the Christian legal world, coming to the aid of innocent Simericans simply trying to practice their faith. Ten months ago, they welcomed their first little girl, Abigail, and just last week they announced the upcoming arrival of their second child! Congratulations to them.

-

Althea Brown (née de la Cruz), 24, is following in her mother’s footsteps and proud of it! The young woman, who wed husband John-David, 28, three years ago, resides in Newcrest and is a content stay-at-home-mother of two.

Jasmine Booth (née de la Cruz), 23, known to friends and family as “Jazzy,” is enjoying the bliss of new parenthood alongside her husband of two years, Jason!

The first set of de la Cruz twins, Joshua and Sofia, 21, are both unattached and living at home. Sofia is pursuing a calling in missionary work, and Joshua is hard at work saving money and praying for his future family. “If you’re reading this as a young Christian woman,” Sofia jests, “have your father write into Praising Him! and I’ll set up a date with Josh!”

Caterina de la Cruz, 20, is diligently knitting, crocheting, sewing, embroidering, and cross-stitching her way through her season of singleness! Though she prays every day for her Prince Charming (nonbelievers need not apply!), she assures Praising Him! that she’s quite content to assist her mother in running the busy de la Cruz household in the interim.

Cecilia de la Cruz, 18, the only unmarried de la Cruz not living at home, declined to comment.

The rest of the de la Cruz children, who range in age from 8 to 17, are kept busy with homeschooling, ISCS conferences, music practice, and Bible study.

If you would like to get in touch with the de la Cruz family, click here to send a message!

[lily-drake]

The Demon’s Queen

Chapter Thirteen

First <> Previous

Marinette’s skin was buzzing, but for once it wasn’t in a bad way that was caused by poisons or getting her butt handed to her, though she was now lasting longer and longer on the mats.  No, it was something almost warm and inviting.  She had not been expecting Talia to have been so…understanding.  It was a welcoming difference, just not one she had been expecting.  

“Marinette.”  Talia began, her voice warm and sweet as honey.  “Follow me, I would like to see how well you have been able to keep up on your education studies.”  Marinette perked up at that, quickly following after the older woman.  While the boy had placed her in classes such as: War Strategy, Arabic lessons, and different “fundamental” type classes, she was sure that Talia would allow her to study something else.  

“Marinette, you are a healer.  Though my son understands the importance of this role, he does not fully recognize what it means to you.  You held the Ladybug Miraculous as another part of you for many years, so much so that I have seen the subtle hints of your power coursing through your blood when you battle.  However, you were also blessed by the Miraculous of Destruction as the Guardian of the box.”

“Why does that matter now?  Without my Miraculous I can’t use my magic.”  Marinette asked, pain hidden behind her stoic facade.

“And that my dear, is where you’re wrong.  You are the guardian, you do not need to hold the Miraculi in or hand to weild it’s power.”  Talia explained as she opened the doors to a large library she had never seen before.  “As you were exposed most to the powers of creation, your gifts will lie first and foremost in that of creation and healing rather than death and destruction.  And I assure you, that is not something that should be frowned upon in this line of work.”  

They walked past large shelves filled to the brim with scrolls and ancient tomes until they stopped in front of a shelf in one of the farthest corners of the library.  From the top of the shelf she polled out an ancient tome with no markings on it firm leather cover that could hint at what it was about, but Talia seemed to know what it was anyway.  “This, is my father’s research on past holders and the powers that they maintained long after use and loss of the Miraculi.  I think that you will find the information located in this book rather insightful.”  Marinette took the book, holding the ancient thing carefully as she hugged it close to her chest, as if that action alone would keep it safe.  Talia gave her a warm smile, and gently patted her head, ignoring the way Marinette ever so slightly leaned into the touch.

Marinette stared up at Talia, her blue eyes still unable to hide the questions and curiosity she tried to hide.  Though it was obvious that Marinette wanted to ask her something, she stayed silent.  Talia didn’t say anything either, waiting to see if the young woman would break or if she would hold herself back.

“Thank you Ma’am.  I will study this carefully.”  There it was.  Talia simply gave a light dip if her head before turning and escorting Marinette out of the room.  Talia watched as the young girl turned down the hall towards her quarters, and smiled.  Marinette’s steps barely made a sound.

__________

“What do you mean you can not take the box back?”  Damian seethed as he glared down at the three Guardians before him.  “Is it not your original responsibility to obtain and keep these jewels safe from others?”

“It is Demon’s Head, however the box no longer belongs specifically to me.”  Grand Guardian Su-Han stated calmly.

“Do you truly expect me to believe that you have no way to remove your curse from another yourselves?”  Damian demanded, leaning back against his throne.

“Not unless you wish for her memories to be completely erased.”  Damian kept his face passive though he was burning on the inside.  How was it that the only options here were for his protégé to either keep their curse or lose their memory of everything to be set free?!  While it was true Marinette losing her memory would make molding her far easier, he did not wish for her to lose what made her great; her intimate knowledge of battle and unwavering need to become better—even if the need was driven on an attempt to escape.

“If you can not fulfill this properly then I wish for you to renounce Marinette from belonging to your Order.  She belongs to The League of Assassins now and no one else.”  The guardians shared a look amongst the others before staring back at The Demon’s Head.  They did not want to give up one of their own, but if Damian was anything like Ra’s al Ghul, he would not hesitate to attack their temple.  If they had more time, they would be able to defend themselves from such an attack, but they were still recovering from their sudden return and thus were too weak.

“If we let you have the young Guardian, will you promise not to harm our sacred temple while we rebuild ourselves?”  

“Tt.  I am not as cowardice as to attack while you are defenseless without cause.  And I have no cause.”  Damian replied flippantly.

“Very well.  I, Grand Guardian Su-Han, relinquish my pupil Guardian Marinette Dupain-Cheng to her new mentor, The Demon’s Head, Damian al Ghul.”  There was an invisible power that hung in the air around them, swift and strong.  Nothing big happened, there was no light show, no gusts of wind, no strings of fate.  Yet, it was magically binding all the same.

“Your presence here is no longer required.  You will be allowed to safely travel back to your temple.  Now leave.”  Damian may not have been able to rid himself of the cursed box, but he no longer had to worry about The Order of the Miraculous trying to retrieve her.  He knew the power given over him didn’t do anything, it gave him no power, it was simply a promise that they would not interfere.  But it filled its purpose nonetheless.  

Damian watched the guardians bow before swiftly leaving the throne room in one smooth motion.  Once he was alone Damian slowly stood from his throne and walked back to his quarters.  

“Looks like your attempt to get rid of us didn’t work out too well, huh Kit.”  Plagg laughed as he flew into Damian’s hair as soon as his door shut.

“Poor Dami.”  Trixx mocked from the bookshelf.

“I normally like rich and powerful men”, Kaalki began, “but you are the one exception.”

Damian sighed in annoyance.  How Marinette handled the childish beings was beyond him.  Plagg laughed, rolling around his hair like a normal cat would do with catnip.  He watched from the corner of his eye as Tikki sat atop the doorframe, glaring down at him with hatefilled eyes.  She didn’t say anything, she didn’t need to.  Damian knew what she thought of him, and he knew that that opinion would not be changing anytime soon, Damian didn’t care.  

With one last sigh, Damian got ready for bed.  He had promised his mother that he’d take Marinette out to the village tomorrow, he’d need to be prepared in case she tried to run off.  And he had no doubt that she would try.

Next

Taglist:

@sinoffalsejudgement @peachmuses @myazael @snnoww26 @dur55 @tip-tap-tired @ledalasombra @jennifer-rose123 @kylamai @plz-excuse-my-inner-gay @stella17luna @meduarts @toodaloo-kangaroo @valeks-star @crazylittlemunchkin @achaoticmess1 @queenz-z @doll246 @aespades @liquid-luck-00 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @demigraceling-blog @kashlyn @castle-bookworms-world @a-classic-bookworm @wheredoesonegetnameideas @ascetic-orange @night-ngale @0anodite0 @strawberryfire17 @laurcad123 @firestorm0316 @aksartisticlife 

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Hej,

please…please tag me in the list I nearly overlook you next chapter 23!

I praised you work before and i really freak out about it, because it’s so dam good.

I have a little request!

If you have the time 🙏 Tell me a little bit about the inspiration for the story? You create such an deep and real universe and brings the characters to life.

Both Dieter and Talia… I can’t get over it….think about the backstory/you description about Dieters behavior about relationships and it’s haunt’s me.

How did you start with the story in the first place? Is there some personal experience you weave into the story? And it’s this your first posting a story like this or did you write other story before?

Sorry, I have so much more question’s to you, but these haunting me the most!

And I know the story between these two lovebirds isn’t over…but i personally hope to read much more from you in the future ☺️

Praises, praise, praise… for you talents!

And thanks for tell about the good and bad parts of life! Where there is darkness, there is also light 😍 ah i love Happy Ends!

I move over to chapter 23 now…can’t wait to read his finally!

Best wishes and thank you!!

Thanks for the ask and kind words! 😭💜

More after the cut because it got kind of long…

This is indeed the first fic I have written on Tumblr. I used to write a lot when I was younger. I wrote a lot of poetry. I even did a horror trilogy once in high school for creative writing, which several of my teachers loved and others thought I was off my rocker…but I digress. 🤣

Once I started college and got my big girl job in higher education, I pretty much stopped writing for fun. I just didn’t have the time or the mental energy to do it. I finally gave up on higher education work after 16 years for a job that has a better work/life balance and I’m finally getting back into writing again. It’s been hard to get my mind reprogrammed from writing data driven reports and evidence based research, to this. It’s two very different things that uses very different language and I feel sooo out of practice. I am, however, slowly finding my way back.

I have mentioned little tidbits about my personal experiences in the Today’s Musings Extras for this fic. I’ve not gone into too many details because I don’t want to inadvertently spoil anything. I am indeed drawing heavily from life experiences for this fic unfortunately.

Everything I have witnessed, I wasn’t always directly involved in. Some of it was just the nature of my job. I did spend three years working in student conduct and behavioral intervention. A lot of the conduct issues really came down to students who were having personal troubles and really just needed help. A lot of it was mental health struggles or problems at home related to mental health struggles of family members. I worked closely with our counseling center during this time. I gained some amazing friends and learned a lot in the process.

With that said, A LOT of this is coming from things I have dealt with directly. There is a lot of me in Talia…the high functioning anxiety, the self doubt, the compartmentalization and rationalization. I work in IT and I’m a big crafting nerd too. So all those parts of her, do come from me. The other parts like the PTSD, history of emotional and psychological abuse, and drinking come from people I’m close to and have witnessed the affects of firsthand.

Dieter is one of my favorite Pedro boys and I felt like he was a great vehicle for exploring these topics. This version of Dieter is inspired by people in my life as well. The experiences he is having are very much pulling from multiple real life situations. They were and still are hard to deal with some days. I feel like it’s important that readers get to see all sides of these types of situations. Especially the side of those who are affected by the mental health struggles of those closest to them. That is something that is often overlooked and those people suffer in silence, just as much as the individuals who are experiencing the mental health crises themselves. That’s all I’ll say for now to avoid spoiling anything. Check back with me after we find out what is going on with Dieter and I might share more about what inspired his journey.

As far a the actual storyline goes, it’s all made up based around the traits I have created for these two and Dieter’s character in The Bubble.

Thank you for the ask and no worries about all the questions! I love that you want to know more about the story!

And lastly, I tried adding you to the tag list, but it won’t let me tag you. Do you possibly have your visibility settings turned off? I’m not sure what else would cause that. ☹️

[lilslilword]

A little scared to post this, but it has been sitting in my draft for years. Okay, so I am not used to doing fanfiction and I’m awfully embarrassed by it, but here it is— fanfiction of First Kill but with an age progression so the main characters are well into college almost Grad School, the families know about the relationships and are more than cordial. Any other details that would make this problematic, let’s assume have been solved. This is about the characters and their relationship and has nothing to do with the actual people/actors that portray them. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of blood, sex, periods, sex on periods possibly, pain, etc…

so Part 1 I guess.

“Good Morning gorgeous.”

I walked into the kitchen to be greeted by the smell of waffles, eggs, and bacon and my girlfriend, leaning over the counter sipping blood out of a Starbucks cup.

“Hi, thanks for making me breakfast.”

I come around and kiss her gently on the cheek which makes her give off a sad whine.

“You know our rule. You have to brush your teeth first.” I smirk knowing that the rule is in play just so I can get her to make her little, cute sad face.

Juliette looked at me laughing before pulling me in for a kiss. It was equal parts rough and gentle and it made me want to pick her up and take her back to bed right now. But forever being the responsible one, she wouldn’t let me as she broke off the kiss and pointed towards the food.

“No, you need to eat food first and we have classes today.”

“Get out of my head ma’am.” I yelled with mock offense, but if she stays in there then she will see some things.

Still, knowing that she was right I picked up my fork and started on my food. Not actually upset by the bloody kiss which actually made me want her more. It’s weird, like, who’s the vampire anyways?

Juliette looked me up and down, shaking her head as our eyes met.

“If it wasn’t your mind, then it’s going to be your face. So either way I know exactly what you are thinking and speaking of, please stop thinking of fucking me during your classes or giving me fuck me eyes while we are in class! We’re in college to learn, not to rip each other’s clothes off. Ooh, if only Ms. Talia knew what you were up to!”

My head shot up from the plate after she said something about my Mom.

“I know you wouldn’t.” I gave her a glare looking deep into her soul.

“I know my Mom is accepting, but chill out with that Jules.” I tried to find something else to say, but couldn’t give the same threat as Mrs. Fairmount would be overjoyed at her child showing any form of aggression. She often jokes that I might be more of a vampire seeing that Jules loves to heal her hickies slowly because she loves looking at the marks.

She gave me those cold blue eyes and I tried not to show how bothered I was by her statement, knowing that my Mom, if not big on monster hunting, has always been huge on education. Also, that reminded me that I needed to call her, see where the fam is right now and tell them to stop sending Tess to look after me. Last time we had to help her clumsy, drunk ass out of the bushes of a nearby sorority house.

I rolled my eyes taking another bite of this waffle. If you didn’t want to get fucked then stop looking so good all the time.

“You always think I look good, I could be wearing anything and you’d want to fuck me, but anyways, your period is about to start. So I’m going to go because you become a horny demon at first and then a sweet baby, like a Sour Patch kid.” Juliette smirked looking at me from her cup before adding, “and smelling your blood has…actually I don’t want to talk about it.”

Hmm, no matter how beautiful she’s grown to be, she’s still that shy girl that I met in high school and when she blushes it is the cutest thing.

“Babe, can you try to stay with me this time? I know you can’t resist me, but I need you here. You always leave, and the gifts, food, etc that you send me are nice, but it doesn’t beat having my girlfriend here with me.”

I walked around the counter, putting my dishes in the sink before coming to hug her from behind while kissing on her neck.

“Please.” I turn her around, giving her my best puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, okay, but I need you to put a pad on and take this medicine right now. I guess you’re going to see why I leave.”

She sighed while giving me a soft smile before going with me to get dressed.

About an hour, a shower, teeth brushing, getting fully dressed, and one attitude later.

“So you couldn’t tell me that I started when we were in the kitchen?” I yelled from behind her.

She was checking herself in the mirror and getting the keys when she chuckled and gave me a wicked little grin. “I’m sorry baby, I tried to hint at it and if I would’ve told you outright then you wouldn’t have eaten your breakfast.”

She pulled me in, kissing me on the cheek while pulling us both closer to the door.

“You have medicine and water in your bag, but I also packed some extra for you in mine. If it becomes too painful we’re leaving and either going to the hospital or coming back home okay?”

I kept walking, not really paying too much attention to what was going on and why this was so serious. She stopped walking and held my face gently, concern evident as she looked me in the eyes.

“If it gets too painful, we are leaving.” She repeated.

“Okay, but I can tolerate the pain. This isn’t anything new to me.”

She shook her head agreeing with me. “I know…and you’re always really strong about it, but I don’t like it when you’re in pain. I can’t stand it actually.”

I pushed her hair back and held her face in my hand. “I’ll be fine. I’m taking pain medicine, it won’t be too bad I promise.” I kissed her cheek knowing that I was lying, but we kept walking and she didn’t question anything .

“I hear you, but you don’t understand.” She walked a little faster trying to out pace me, but I caught up taking her by the hand.

“Then tell me, so I will.”

She gave a quick blush, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. Seeing her hair go up made me a little sad, but that’s besides the point.

“It’s embarrassing, also don’t do that, you can always take it down later.”

She gave me a flirty grin before using her speed to run ahead. I was going to run after her when a cramp stopped me in my tracks making me double over in pain.

She ran back towards me, holding me up so I wouldn’t fall over.

“Nope, we’re going back to the dorm. No class today, I’ll send emails.”

I grit my teeth together trying to pull off a smile while standing back up. “I’m fine, I promise, just get the pain medicine out of my bag please.”

She reached for my bag, but another cramp came that had me about to throw up.

“Nope, we both know that you already took it too late or forgot completely. We’re going home.”

She looked around before picking me up in a wedding carry and speeding back to the outside of the apartment.

“Here, two and you’re going to sleep.”

I took the pills and water from her giving up. “Okay.” I know I said that I wanted her to stay, but if she gets so upset seeing me in a little pain then I don’t know how she’ll react being with me right now.

We made it to our room and I ran straight into the bathroom throwing up the breakfast she made. While I was dying, she made the bed, got my heating pad, and sat watching me slowly walk to the bed to lay down.

“You looking at me like that is giving major creep vibes.” I knew she was only doing it because she was worried, but I couldn’t let her be too worried without joking on her a little.

Instead of continuing to give off creep, she stood up and paced the room. I guess she must’ve been very nervous because I could hear her thoughts, something that had never happened before.

It’s okay. She’s going to be okay. She’s not dying. She’s just in pain, which I hate. I hate it. I hate it. Okay, what can I do to help? Okay, she has her heating pad, medicine, I’ll make a warm bath when she is feeling better and wants to get up, does she want cuddles, oh my God she smells so good. Fuck, I need to leave before I eat her. Well, there is some research that an orgasm helps with cramps, but I don’t want her to think that I’m horny. Eating her out right now does sound good, I wouldn’t let a single drop fall. No. No. No. I’m being a horrible girlfriend right now. She’s in pain, I’m going to go cuddle her. Fuck I need to eat. Fuck, she smells sooo good.

I opened my eyes to feel her under the covers in between my legs.

“Babe!”

Her eyes had turned and her fangs were out.

“Babe! Baby!”

She finally came to and went beside me.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what got into me.”

She looked worried, scared, and I could hear her thoughts going a mile a minute. But only one stood out.

She’s going to break up with me.

“Baby, come here.”

I held my arms out, waiting for her to fill the space between them. She took my heating pad, restarting the time and heat on it before slowly coming to lie just above the heating pad. I played in her hair finally taking the ponytail down. A win is a win.

“I’m not going to break up with you. Not now, not ever. You even thinking that breaks my heart, okay?”

She nodded looking down. I could feel her shaking as her tears fell to her arm.

“Aww baby.” I lifted her up, wiping her face.

“Okay…but I have to tell you something that’s a little creepy and embarrassing. I should’ve told you earlier when I brought it up, but ever since I bit you I can feel what you feel. I try to ignore it and block it out if I can, but the bigger the feeling the harder it is to block. So when you started cramping I could feel how much pain you were in, it terrified me. And I am never here when you’re on your period because your blood is intoxicating and me loving you makes me want to umm relieve your pain any way possible, also your blood can make me a little tipsy to say the least. I don’t want to talk about it, but I leave because I’m trying to protect you from me, the monster.”

She hung her head down and it’s like I could feel her heart cracking and it hurt so much. I never knew she was going through all of this or even that me calling her a monster so long ago still affected her. I could feel the pain radiating off of her when she said it and although I have questions about her being able to feel what I feel, I think I’m starting to understand her a lot more.

I pushed her hair back and we laid together like that until I fell asleep. When I woke up, she had some more pain medicine, fruit, and water in her hands.

“I know you don’t eat much the first two days, but you need to eat something and I thought something light like this might help.” She put the bowl of fruit on the bedside table before giving me her signature shy grin while holding the meds and bottle out for me to take.

“Thank you my love.” I took the medicine and drunk water from the bottle before eating a couple pieces of fruit. “Do you want to cuddle again?” She just stood there frozen and I could sense the fear.

“ You aren’t going to hurt me.” I reached out for her and she took my hand kissing it before cuddling me and restarting the heating pad which I hadn’t realized had gone out.

With her arms wrapped around me my mind started wondering to earlier. I know she was talking about period pain, but now it just makes me wonder if she can feel how much she turns me on, when she makes me cum, and other things like that? Wait, can she feel when I masturbate? Is there a way that I can feel what she feels? If yes, then that would explain why she’s so sensitive when it’s my turn to please her and I think I kind of already feel what she feels. Well, at least I can feel the sadness.

She had the biggest blush on her face as she turned away from me in bed .

“To answer your questions, yes. Now stop thinking before you start something.”

Stop thinking? Maybe I want to start something.

“No you don’t. We’ve never had sex while you’re on your period and some of the lore about it is real. Very real.”

She turned back around snuggling closer into me, her head now on my chest. Before I could ask about the lore, she started back talking.

“You’ve always relaxed me, from the first time I saw you back when I was hurting myself trying not to kill someone. You’d come into the room and I couldn’t feel any of the pain. Even right now listening to your heartbeat, how it gets a little faster when we kiss or when I touch you like this.” She gently traced her fingers down my spine while looking into my eyes. This girl. “Or just hearing your thoughts can help put me at ease. Well, not right now, you horny freak, but usually.” She looked into my eyes and pulled me into a kiss.

At this point I grabbed her so she was on top of me.

I sat up so our faces were inches apart and brought her into a kiss before drifting to her neck.

“If you weren’t blocking them, could I hear your thoughts and feel what you feel?” I asked her in between kissing the sweet spots on her neck and rubbing her hotspots.

“Uhh…fu-fuck yesss.” I could see the lust in her eyes as she was trying her best to restrain herself.

“Let me in.” I ordered licking her neck before sucking and biting trying to leave hickies.

Her head tilted back and I could feel her hips grinding into mine, just trying to get any friction that she could. A low moan came from her lips and I could see her fangs. I could feel her ragged breathing by my ear, then she pulled away. I kept hold of her waist so she couldn’t go too far.

“Baby, we can’t. If we do, a lot will happen and I don’t know if we’re ready for those changes.”

She looked at me sadly while pulling my hair away from my face.

“Tell me what happens and we can decide together.”

She tried to get off of my lap, but I kept a stronghold looking her up and down with a straight face. She sighed, making herself more comfortable.

“There’s old lore about the powers of period blood as in someone eating or consuming another person’s links them. The lore is true, but for vampire couples it is a lot extra. In essence I’d become addicted to you in a way, as if, I could become anymore enamored by you. But that’s the lore and since we are in love, apparently it gives some powers to both parties if the vampire has the sexual acts reciprocated.”

She blushed looking away.

“As if I’d ever leave you hanging, but is this, this lore part of the reason why you usually aren’t around?”

She shook her head signaling yes.

“And it doesn’t matter,because that’s not happening. Not right now at least, I mean some things can happen, but just not the reciprocation right now.”

She rambled nervously as a blush crept onto her face. I pulled her back in, kissing her again. Bringing her hair back I stared into her eyes.

“I’m not opposed to it, but we don’t have to either. I don’t want to do anything you aren’t ready to do , but can you take the boundary down and fully let me in? I know it’s your last defense, but I’m your girlfriend and I’m not going anywhere, understood?”

She shook her head agreeing before I kissed her passionately once again. She slowly started grinding onto me again.

“Okay baby, I’m ready.” She moaned and like a flood I could feel how much she wanted, no needed this.

“Fuck, shit.” I gasped as I could feel how wet she was and her clit throbbing as if it were my own. I could feel my touch on her and how it felt like electricity was going throughout me.

I trailed my hand to her waist and pulled her panties aside before slowly putting a finger inside of her. Our eyes locked, we moaned together as I could feel the pleasure she was getting.

She needed my touch, was craving it, so badly. Trying to keep her composure, to not fuck me senseless. I could feel all of it, her back arching from my touch, my tongue on her neck, fingers exploring her insides, her shaking, the need for more.

“Baby, if you needed me this much you should’ve said something.”

She let off a breathy giggle. “I didn’t know how? Ugh fuck me please.” She pleaded needing more than just my one finger to get her off.

“Asking like that is a good way to start.” Heating pad and pain be damned, I’m going to fuck this girl senseless.

Both of us switched positions her back on the bed while I straddled on top of her. A bit of pain came back, but I couldn't care less at the moment which left one of us.

“Babe, no.” She gently placed me beside her and reset my heating pad on my stomach.

I could feel her need, how much she wanted me, but overpowering that was worry, her wanting me to feel better.

“But, I know how much you need this right now and I don’t want to leave you horny. A little pain won’t kill me.” I reached towards her only for her to pull back.

“It won’t kill you, but it’ll hurt me knowing that you’re hurting.”

“Okay, but you aren’t getting it.” I looked towards her.

“I’ll be fine, I’m right here, I’m not leaving.”

I pulled the finger out, licking it as I looked her in the eyes.

“I know how much you need this right now. You’re always putting yourself last and making sure that I’m okay, that I feel good, as your girlfriend it’s my job to put you first. So you’re going to lay down and you’re going to let me fuck you, then afterwards I’ll do whatever you want even if that is just cuddling and taking medicine. But right now, you’re wet, horny, and I can feel how much you want me to just take you, so let me.”

I looked into her eyes, rubbing up and down her thigh. I love her reactions, how sensitive she is with me. She shook her head eagerly before taking her clothes off.

“Okay.” She guided my hand back to her pussy. “But I’m doing to you whatever you do to me.”

I slid a finger inside curving it to hit her spot and was rewarded with a moan before she easily slid a finger into my folds, finding my spot just as easily.

On a regular day I’m super sensitive to her touch, but right now, I’m trying my hardest not to cum. I need to get her off first, I can’t let her make me cum first.

I slid another finger inside of her and found a rhythm curving it to hit her spot every time. I started pounding into her, her moans coming out like sweet music. I could feel her orgasm building, her shaking underneath me, and trying her best to keep her fangs at bay.

Her eyes were closed and she was running away from the pleasure. Her body slightly backing away from me everytime I thrust my fingers inside, slowly making her take less and less.

“Stop running and look at me when I’m making you cum. You’re such a sub for me.”

She hissed her fangs very much out and her eyes glowing with pleasure. I had her right how I wanted her, but somehow she flipped me over taking my clothes off while sliding a towel underneath me.

She had my legs opened and up so fast that I couldn’t think before her tongue made contact with my throbbing clit. She tore my underwear off before sticking two fingers inside of me fucking me like she hates me and now I’m the one running away, not able to look or speak to her. She was bringing me to the point of tears, fucking me while sneaking a meal. Her eyes glowed with a slight twinkle as she kept working to make me cum harder than I have before.

She was in my head saying all the right things to make me cum.

You’re such a good little slut, now come for Mommy. I want to taste you all over my tongue. You taste so good right now baby, give me more. Reward me for fucking your pussy like this. Oh my, you look so good, I’m cumming just looking at you. Fuck, you’re so beautiful, cum for me My Pretty Girl.

Between her being in my head and fucking the hell out of me I was panting, cumming at will, almost about to pass out.

She kissed me, pouring water into my mouth which I happily accepted before screaming as she continued to abuse my spots. My legs shaking as my eyes fluttered she kept fucking me hard.

Uhh it’s so nice seeing you turn into a little puddle like this for me. Such a good girl taking my fingers. You’re cumming so much baby.

And I was cumming hard, no words just sounds and I couldn’t even get my thoughts together. My mind went blank as the feeling got stronger.

I tried to keep in control of my body, but I could feel myself giving in to my more aggressive self. She’s only seen this side of me once or twice when I was a bit too over stimulated, which is why I try to keep it down, but I can't right now. If she wants to be a monster, then she’s about to meet her match.

“Baby, we f-fuck need to stop before. “ I choked out as I was shaking from another orgasm.

“I’m not stopping, bring it on baby. I can feel you about to switch, but I am too. Let’s see how this works out.”

“Fu-fuck, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I looked into Juliette’s eyes trying my hardest to chill, but it didn’t work, I was cumming undone.

“You did, but I’m going to enjoy this. “

I shook in the bed, cumming so hard that I couldn’t stop myself from moaning loudly. I could feel Juls tonging me through my orgasm leading me to another one.

“F-fuck.” My juices were spilling out of me and Juliette wasn’t missing a single drop. She came up with her mouth wet as her tongue licked around to get every drop. Her fingers still trapped inside of my pulsing pussy going in and out had me in a trance. I couldn’t take it anymore…

[hetaliaimaginesin2022]

Hetalia Troupe Writing Prompts

You know those age-old troupes and alternate universes (aus) in fanfiction? Whether you love them or hate them, they're common in fandoms all over the internet, including Hetalia. I also decided I wanted to make my current Tumblr look like my 2016 DeviantArt page, so I'm doing a cute little writing prompt thing that begins as soon as I hit post and will continue indefinitely

The Rules: You'll have 3 categories to choose from; Aus, Genres, and Troupes, and I'll either write headcanons (a list) or a one-shot (short story), your choice

GENRES (Choose up to 1)

Angst

Comfort

Fluff

Slice of Life

Smut

AUS (Choose up to 1)

N/A (Canon)

Actor Au (The characters are actors in the live action comedy "Hetalia" and their roles as countries are the parts they're playing, their human names are their real identities)

Animal Au (Cat ears, bird wings, snake tails, etc., it's all anthropomorphic animals here)

Apocalypse Au (Zombies, nuclear winter, natural disasters, it’s characters thriving in unlikely conditions)

Coffee Shop Au (Barista/Customer, Barista/Barista, Boss/Customer, a cute story contained in a coffee shop setting)

College Au (Characters in an American college or university setting, can include student/student or professor/professor)

Cops and Robbers Au (Theif/Detective is the most common, though anything along those lines fit)

Deity Au (The most common example is with Greek mythology where a tale will be told with characters and/or the reader, the story of Hades and Persephone was regularly reimagined)

Fairytale Au (Cinderella, Rapunzel, Beauty and The Beast, Little Red Riding Hood, etc.)

Famous Au (Musicians, performers, or famous for being country personifications)

Genderswap Au (Nyo!talia, is combinable with two more Aus)

Hallmark Au (Character A is a hardworking person who moved to a snowy town and meets B, a fun-loving person who shows them the true meaning of the season- and love)

Harry Potter Au (Fuck JK Rolling but the HP Au was a huge portion of this fandom early on for me personally, so I wanted to add it)

High School Au (Characters in a high school setting, can include student/student or teacher/teacher, student/teacher is not permitted, regardless of ages)

Historical Au (Any time period, I will be doing some cursory research on the time period before and while I write just to make sure things are at least a bit historically accurate)

Human Au (The characters are normal humans with regular human lives, often overlaps with high school/college au, though they're not necessarily linked)

Magic Au (High or urban fantasy, your choice)

Mythology Au (Vampires, werewolves, fairies, mermaids, etc.)

Paranormal Au (Ghosts, demons, angels)

Pirate Au (Would you be an ‘arrg’ type of pirate or a ‘yo-ho-ho’ kind?)

Royalty Au (Princes, princesses, kings, queens, royal advisors, butlers, maids, go crazy)

Soulmate Au (Timer, heterochromia, red string, there’s a variety of options and I’ll write for any of them)

Spy/Assassin/Hitman Au

World Acadamy Au (The "multicultural private educational institution located in New York", it's a school setting in which the countries set, based off of a spin off game and a few episodes)

TROPES (Choose up to 2)

Amnesia

Arranged Marriage

Body Swap

Character Death

Didn't Know They Were Dating

Divorce

Drunken Confession

Enemies To Lovers

Exes Getting Back Together

Fake Relationship

First Kiss

Forbidden Love

Huddle For Warmth

Illness/Injury

Last Kiss

Long-Distance Relationship

Love Triangle

Meet-Cute

Mutual Pining

Only One Bed

Pregnancy (accidental or otherwise)

Pen Pals

Road Trip

Roommates

Secret Relationship

Sex Pollen/Heat (*Not applicable with angst)

Single Parent(s)

Snowed In

Unrequited Love

Yandere

Please submit your request by stating it's for the Troupe Writing Prompts, followed by your choices and the character/characters involved and I'll get to it when I can, thank you for taking the time to read <3

[angstfactory]

"Nah," Jesse said now, in a quieter and calmer tone even though his chest pounded so loudly in his ears, "we were two guys that liked to hang out sometimes, because we just happened to be there at the time." That tone had hardened, though. Become more resolute. Because the intention was clear and evident-- he had to separate himself from Kai, from all of them. If Jesse had to hurt others to protect himself, then that was what had to happen. Was it ideal? Did he want to hurt Kai or anyone else that seemed to think they cared about him? No. But he would, for his own selfish reasons. Jesse had lived by one motto and one motto only for these past fifteen years: he had to take care of himself, first.

He truly, wholeheartedly believed, that at some point the other shoe would drop and people like Kai, who claimed they liked and cared about him, thought he was their best bud and whatever, would come to see just how useless and disappointing the junkman was. That actually, he wasn't worth keeping around at all. Once the beers stopped and the jokes dried up, they would finally get a good look at the guy, and what his parents had seen... what Talia had seen... what all those teachers and cops and friends and neighbors had seen... That made them all turn their backs and ditch him in the dust. And the worst part was, he could see it all himself. Jesse had nothing going for him. He had no life goals, no ambitions, no career, no education. He went through life, seizing whatever cheap thrills and opportunities were available, or he cheated his way to them.

Knowing all of that, didn't make it hurt any less. Jesse had open sores all over him and he was so sick of the salt that rubbed in. He couldn't let himself get attached to anyone anymore. Quite frankly, he just wasn't strong enough to continue to weather this storms time and time again.

"Well, hate to break it to you, Kai, but this is a part of me too," Jesse told the other man, looking up at the witch as he tied the bags off. "Surprise! Good you found out now, right, than later. Consider it a favor. You're welcome." The sarcasm was back. But he meant every word. Kai only proved his point. The witch was out here, picking and choosing when to like Jesse, what things to like about him -- he was so much fun, when they were out drinking and having a good time and acted like there weren't any problems in life. But the second the guy got cold feet and shut people out, that was too much for Kai. That the man wasn't here for. All of them would match Kai's energy and he was actually so, so fucking thankful to the witch in that moment for keeping his eyes wide open and clear. Friends? Bullshit.

"I've been sticking it out, Kai," he insisted, taking up one of the bags on his shoulder and cringing from a stitch at his side, favoring the left as he carried it to the dumpster. "I never stay in one place long-- this wasn't supposed to be any different, I got sidetracked," he said thickly. He'd gotten too comfortable, actually. He had somehow found a small part of the world that nearly made him feel like he belonged there, until the stark reality of it came back. He should have never stopped looking for Talia. "Look," Jesse came back to stand before the witch then, idly rubbing the area just below his ribcage at his left side, "it's not personal, alright? I don't hate you. You're a cool guy, we had some good laughs. I.. appreciate that you listened to me bitchin' n' moanin' about my sis, that you tried to help." He exhaled, shrugging. "N' I know I'm bein' a real asshole right now -- I got no choice, man -- but it's time I get on outta here. I'm overstayin' my welcome anyway."

Three attacks in the last half year? Yeah, he'd say so.

Kai quickly realised that the more he said, the worse things got. So, he decided to stop trying to reason with Jesse. He could understand, to an extent, how he was feeling. Kai knew of plenty of humans who felt unease in Raven's Peak thanks to the ever growing population of supernatural beings. Hell, he even knew of some who had no idea. They were the ones who were most at risk, but that wasn't something he was about to point out.

He watched with curiousity as Jesse started piling up the vegetation. "Yeah, well, you've got a fucking funny way of showing it." He said, though he wasn't sure he was supposed to have actually heard what Jesse had said. Kai wasn't sure what he could do to show Jesse that he wasn't a threat to him. Sure, he could stop doing magic around him, but he wasn't about to pretend to be something he wasn't. "You're not a fucking nobody to me. Up until about five minutes ago I thought you were a friend. No matter what you might think about me or what I am, that actually means something to me. I don't go around just attacking people, let alone my fucking friends." In his life, Kai Winter had done a lot of stupid things, but he had never done anything that would put his friends in harms way. "If I was gonna get tired of your shit, it would've happened months ago. But I actually fucking like you. When you're not acting like this you're actually fun to be around."

"Not with that fucking attitude. There's a reason you're still here. She could be closer than you think. Maybe you just need to stick it out." Kai really did feel for Jesse with his situation, he did. He'd tried to help in any way that he could, but even he was starting to feel like it was hopeless. Not that he would ever admit that to the older man. "All kinds of people have been showing up lately. Ride it out, see if she turns up."

[red-jaebyrd]

Good Talk, Headmaster

This fic is based on this post by @nightwingthebooty. Thanks for the inspiration

There was an awkward silence that hovered over the three occupants in the spacious office of the headmaster of West-Reeve Academy. Bruce could feel a tension headache starting to rise behind his left eye radiating to his left temple. The person responsible for said tension headache was sitting the a chair right next to him with graceful aloofness.

“What are you doing here?” Bruce asked, through gritted teeth.

“Excuse me, I can’t have an interest in my son’s ‘education’?” Talia answered, making air quotes as she said the last word.

“You’ve never shown an interest in anything regarding our son,” Bruce retorted. “Why start now?”

“I do when certain decisions interfere with my child’s wellbeing.”

“Since when?” Bruce challenged, turning in his seat to face Talia.

“Since now. Honestly, Bruce, this is the best you’ve decided for our son?” Talia argued, gesturing toward the Headmaster. “This mediocre institution is stifling our son’s potential.”

“Ms al Ghul, if I may interject. This is the best private institution in the East Coast; and Damian is excelling in all subjects,” Headmaster Adams said, gesturing at the open file in front of him.”

“If that is the case then why are we here?” Talia sneered, tilting her head.

“It is a matter of your son’s behavior and actions toward other teachers and fellow students.” Headmaster Adams said, squirming under Talia’s glare.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, fighting hard not to sag his shoulders in defeat.

“Numerous times Damian has interrupted a professor mid lecture to argue and inform the teacher that and I quote…” Adams paused to direct his attention to the sheet of paper and read from it. “…your inaptitude to accurately teach the true events of this particular moment in history is a direct reflection of the limits of your mediocre and outdated education.”

“He said this to a teacher?” Bruce asked, sitting straighter in his chair. Bruce was taken aback by this new information. They had discussed on many occasions that challenging the professor was acceptable. Insulting the professor was not.

“That is correct, Mr Wayne. Damian made him cry. Took a whole day to get Professor Axel out of his office.”

“Was Damian, at the very least, correct in his assessment of the subject matter being discussed?”

“Talia, that’s not the point,” Bruce countered, placing his hand on his head in exasperation. He took a breath and addressed the Headmaster. “I will discuss this matter with Damian –“

“Why should you? There is nothing to discuss if Damian was correct. He was taught by the best tutors money could buy when he lived with me.”

“That’s the problem, Talia. He never should have been living with you in the first place,” Bruce retorted.

“I’ll have you know that while he was living with me, he was –“

Headmaster Adams loudly cleared his throat.

“If we may continue, there is also the matter of Damian’s interaction with other students,” Adams continued, clasping his hands together.

“Oh boy,” Bruce muttered, scrubbing his face harshly. “Whose nose did he break this time?”

“No, no. Mr Jefferies has steered clear of Damian since their altercation on the grounds at the start of term. No one will even come near Damian now, except the Kent boy, but he talks to everyone,” Adams cleared his throat again. “Anyway, regarding Damian, he’s quite protective of the younger students and he also helps many of the other students with their homework.”

“Where is the concern?” Talia asked, crossing her arms.

“We also discovered that Damian was helping a number of our high school students with their homework. Some had him help them with college entrance exams.”

“And by ‘helping’ do you mean providing them with the answers and doing their homework?” Bruce questioned, slowly starting to sag in his chair.

“No, nothing like that; he was charging a fee for his services. A very sizable fee if I’m being honest.”

“As he should,” Talia remarked, sitting back and gazing at her nails. “Considering the staff you have employed here your students need all the help they can get.”

“Talia, you’re not helping,” Bruce hissed, leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees.

“He even drummed up a contract,” Adams said, producing a piece of paper and handing it to Bruce. “By the looks of it he had it notarized.”

“As he should,” Talia remarked, pulling out a glass file from her purse and filing her nails. “My son is not an idiot.”

“So he wasn’t cheating, just tutoring and essentially helping older students prepare for college tests,” Bruce inquired, handing the contract back to the professor.

“Yes, but we can’t have him charging money for those kinds of services,” Adams reiterated, folding his hands in front of him.

“Why not? These students’ parents would likely pay for the same services to an outsider. How convenient for these students to find someone ‘in house’,” Talia challenged, taking the contract from the desk and looking it over. “T-T, you are worth so much more than this, my son.”

Bruce snatched the paper back from Talia and placed it back onto the professor’s desk. He didn’t want to admit it. Fuck he hated that he agreed with every single word she just said. The worst part was having to admit it out loud that Talia al Ghul was finally right about a matter concerning their son.

“She’s right, Professor,” Bruce said, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Damian wasn’t cheating or breaking any laws or school policies. He was providing a service to students to help better their education. Are any of the parents complaining?

“No.”

“Are any of the students complaining?” Bruce asked.

“No.”

“Then we are done here,” Talia declared, picking up her handbag and standing up.

“We are not done here, Ms al Ghul,” Adams squeaked, straightening himself in his chair. “The issue at hand –“

Talia set her handbag down on the chair and walked closer to the desk. Holding her glass file in her hand as she addressed the Headmaster.

“Do you know who I am, Headmaster?” Talia inquired in a low tone, reaching over the desk and closing the open file on Damian.

The Headmaster glanced at Bruce, but Bruce kept his face neutral, sat back in his chair and got comfortable. The Headmaster swallowed thickly and nodded in response to Talia’s question.

“The only issue I see here are the fragile egos of second-rate teachers at an overrated institution,” Talia continued, keeping the tone of her voice low. Bruce was familiar with the tactic. Talia used it to intimidate executives in business deals. 

Talia moved back toward the chair and sat down. Depositing her handbag on the floor. 

“There was a lack and my son saw an opportunity to fill a need. Plain and simple,” Talia reiterated, continuing to file her nails. “If it makes you feel any better I will have him redistribute the money back into the school so that you may invest in better resources to help your students flourish. Does this arrangement suffice?” 

The Headmaster was speechless. His mouth kept flapping open and closed like a fish out of water. He kept glancing at Bruce, but Bruce wasn’t going to ruin this moment for Talia. She didn’t need him to interject one bit.

“Good talk, Headmaster,” Talia ended the conversation, gathering her handbag and exiting the office. She waved her hand dismissively. “Until next time.

Bruce got up from his chair and couldn’t hide the smirk on his face. They had finally agreed on something concerning Damian.

“Until next time, Headmaster,” Bruce repeated and held out his hand for the Headmaster to shake.

[nutellarghh]

17 Questions, 17 people

Holy shit I am terrible in tag games apparently, since I didn’t even know this many people tagged me in this! So, thank you to @but-theres-wolves @ilovepeachystuff @fairytales-and-folklore and @fanfics-fix ! 

Nicknames: Nutella, Nut, Nutty, Nat, Bitch are among the most popular. There were some people at one point who called me Talia, but that died a while back.

Zodiac: Cancerrrr

Height: 5″4 I think?

Hogwarts house: Slytherin all the way!

Last thing I googled: “the mozambique”. I have a weird feeling this says too much about me.

Followers: 606.

Song stuck in my head: ummm... the ‘suck a dick’ vine song. intercepted with “fuck this shit, im out” every now and then.

How much sleep: either 0 hours or like, 11-12. There’s no inbetween and thanks, I hate it.

Lucky number: 13 I guess? 

Dream job: Oh man, I wanted to be a lawyer for so long. I still do in some ways, but I also like my current job so now I’m torn between getting back into education to finish all my legal qualifications, or staying and investment banking where I’m currently getting qualifications... Life, man

Wearing: Long fluffy pyjama pants and a coca cola night shirt. I’m in Poland, it’s winter, I’ve been working from home for almost two years now, fuck you.

Favourite song: One???? You want me to list one??? Impossible?????????? But according to my spotify, my most replayed song this year (that wasn’t for like, trying to hypnotise myself into sleep or force myself into hyperfocus reasons, just for enjoyment reasons) was Burn Burn by Nico Vega

Favourite instrument: Drums. Gimme all the base. I want my lungs rattling against my ribcage.

Aesthetic: Um. Swearin’, smokin’, drinkin’? 

Favourite Author: Actual fave is a Polish author, Halina Rudnicka. English - Orwell. Fanfic - I think we’re all simping after @isthatbloodonhisshirt here.

Favourite animal noise: Deer. They make the most fucked up, derpy noises and I love it.

Something random: Dude, my whole life is random. I don’t know what to say herrreeeeeeeeeee

Aight, im gonna tag @ash-mcj @princecharmingwinks @tails89 @fairydustedtheory @idle-rodent (we connected, now im gonna tag you in all the shit, get ready for that) @seanchaidh7 @alphadiablo29 @asarcasticwitch @jmeelee and everyone else who wants to participate

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 20

The dinner was just as Jason expected, bland, dull, a lot of formalities in which Bane was visibly struggling with and did not even bother to pretend to know the difference between steak or salad forks. Jason, Dick, and Tim managed to keep the conversation alive and light, somehow without offending the formality of the dinner. Good thing, Jason thought, that The League had taught him of formal dinner etiquette and whatnot, otherwise he would have been slurping the baiwang with the soup spoon instead of the Chinese soup spoon provided by Alfred - like Bane.

Dick, for all of his lack of etiquette education, won in the manners division - regardless of the fact that Tim was helping him by pointing out which cutlery should be used for what. At the very least, he was not beneath asking what he wasn't sure of. 

The day after was a little duller. Alfred merely informed them that the police were there along with the District Attorney, Harvey Dent, to arrest Bane on several counts of murder. Bane was arrested nearly without a fight - he had been purged of his venom strength and knew that he had no chance against some of the cops who were ready to taser him.

Jason was... frankly, a little disappointed.

"Would've been nice if there was a brawl or something," Dick voiced Jason's thought out loud just as he walked outside.

"Oh, goodness, I'm just glad this is over," Bruce commented, glaring apprehensively at Dick's back as the latter walked away with Damian. There was a good long silence before he added, "I presume now that Bane is out of this house, Damian will no longer need you two? I mean, he has me now - and his grandparents." he pointed out.

"I have vowed to guard Damian until he is an adult," Jason replied simply. Ignoring Bruce's sudden change of expression. "it is my order."

"Well, Talia... no offense. But Talia won't-- is no longer around to hold you accountable." Bruce argued.

"No, she's not. But Damian is." Jason looked at the child, sitting under one of the Manor's massive trees with a thick sketchbook before him. Dick, Jason knew, was on the tree. Even with Bane arrested, Oracle had warned that as long as he's not fully incarcerated in a maximum-security facility, he could still either get out and hurt the Waynes - including Damian. Therefore Jason asked Dick to remain with them for a little while longer. Thankfully, Dick didn't mind.

"He's a child. Children adapt well with changes of environments," Bruce said. "and if you're afraid that Bane would come back, I can hire some bodyguards for him."

Jason managed to hold back his smirk. People always thought that he was there to protect Damian; not realizing that he was protecting others from Damian's temper. Instead, he smarted, "like you protected your parents by sending them overseas."

"Oh, now, that's not fair." Bruce protested. "It was... we all thought that... at least mother and I..." he didn't finish his sentence as he exhaled exasperatedly. "His DNA check is back," he continued after a few moments of silence.

"Obviously, he hasn't a drop of Wayne blood in him," Jason suggested, a little dryly. "Something anyone with knowledge of the molecular structure of DNA would have known right away. You accepted Damian right away because you saw he has your mother's ears, in spite of his green eyes. Yet you doubted your father's denial in spite of the fact that there is nothing on Bane that resembled any of you - including about all of the portraits of your ancestors.

"And then there's something else I realized. Bane came with nothing; whereas Damian came with the Al Ghul wealth. You were more accepting because Damian would not equal splitting the Wayne wealth..."

"That is not true!" Bruce growled. "I would not have turned Damian away even if he was not Talia's child. He is my child, and I know that he is!"

"Then we're back to my initial point: You were unable to defend your parents because you did not have 100% faith in their virtues. The Al Ghuls are known leaders of the League of Assassins, to which the leadership shall now be Damian's. What will be your argument, when he decides to take over the League fully? 'Oh, I can't be associated with criminals, even if said crimes were just allegation and not a video recording of someone snapping off another person's neck'?" Jason sneered. "Now, Mister Wayne. I also would like to remind you, that I have Damian's legal custody. If you insist I should leave, I shall bring him along."

"You can't do that," Bruce scowled. "He's my biological child..."

"You have studied your country's laws, Mister Wayne. But you forgot the one crucial thing: Damian is not your country's boy by any means other than your claim." Jason mentally realized that he has placed one of his ace cards onto the table. But he honestly prefers this kind of conversation not to be had when Damian is present. And from the looks of it, he has packed his sketching materials and was making his way back indoors. "Do not try to deny Damian's access to me, or the League, Mr Wayne. He is not yours to manipulate," he added softly while Damian was still out of range.

"Hey guys, Damian and I are hungry," Dick announced as they went past the door. "Think Alfred would let us have cookies?"

"He's the one who is hungry, Todd," Damian told Jason. "I shall wait until tea time for the cookies. It is only a mere hour away."

"Why don't you scrub up a little? Tea should be ready by the time you're done." Bruce suggested.

Damian's scowl could have killed a cobra. "While I am planning on refreshing myself, father, it would be kind of you to cease directing me as if I am an imbecile," he stated, and for the second time in less than 10 minutes, Jason bit the inside of his cheek to stop a snicker.

Bruce, however, was not amused at Damian. "Well! That is not what a child should say to his father!" he admonished.

"Todd," Damian glared at Jason. "Did you not inform Mr Wayne here that I merely referred to him as 'father' due to common societal practices?" he asked with air quotes around the word 'father'.

"I have informed him that, Damian," Jason assured him.

"Do remind him on a daily basis that I am not obliged to remain here beyond what is demanded by his country's societal norms." Damian continued.

"I shall, Damian," Jason replied.

"Very well, I shall be in my quarters until tea time. You might consider feeding Grayson here, Todd," Damian said dismissively.

"I actually have some matters to discuss with you, Damian, if you don't mind. I think Grayson can fend for himself just fine," Jason told him.

"I don't mind. Let us, then." Damian said, leading the way back to his room.

Jason nodded politely to Bruce and motioned Dick to join him. "Mr Wayne, Grayson."

As they left Bruce, still standing in confusion - probably - Dick remarked, "ouch," softly.

"Go on and get your own cookies, Grayson," Jason remarked.

"I need to discuss something with you, too. You two, actually, somewhere safe." Dick said. Both Jason and Damian paused their steps. "Yeah, and we might need to call upon a certain bird for backup," Dick added, almost nonchalantly. It was not until then that Jason noticed the tenseness on his shoulders. He remembered that Dick, too, was trained to keep an eye out for danger.

"You go on ahead with Damian, I'll ask Alfred if he may have tea in his quarters." Jason decided. Damian nodded, realizing the urgency in Dick's posture, and stepped a little closer to Dick as Jason turned the other way.

Whatever it is Dick has to say, Jason could be certain now that besides himself, Dick would protect Damian fiercely. And/or protect other, possibly innocent people, from Damian's tempers.

He was just wondering why did it seem that Bruce Wayne was so intent on removing him.

And why Dr and Mrs Wayne would suddenly take a trip to Europe right after they were proverbially and literally freed from Bane.

Alfred, as usual, was in the kitchen preparing for tea time. In spite of being Americans, the Waynes seemed to like the habit of afternoon tea time.

Jason told Alfred of Damian's request, and Alfred nodded slowly. "Is Master Bruce still in the sun-room, then?" he asked.

"Last time I saw him, yeah."

"Ah, then... young Jason, may an old man request something from you and your vast knowledge of herbs?" Alfred's face was as impassive as ever when he said that, just a shade before he returned to his task of preparing some small sandwiches. But Jason was a little confused. Why would Alfred ask him for herbs? As far as Jason could tell, he was as healthy as... well, someone Jason's age, which has got to be at least a third of Alfred's; half at most. Jason didn't think that Alfred was any older than mid- to late-40s.

"Sure, how can I help?" he answered, anyway.

"Oh, I was wondering if there is any method you may suggest to... how do I put it... Chafe off surgical remains within oneself? I have had work done for my nose, you see, on a whim as a young lad; and I do not believe it looks becoming on me as I age. I feel as if it makes me look like another person is inhabiting my body, as Master Bruce was wont to say."

Jason blinked, and partially wished Dick was there to confirm his thoughts. In spite of being the exact same height as Jason, Alfred was bowing his head a little as he spoke; and Jason knew that there was a surveillance camera that would be able to record their conversation in the kitchen. His shoulders were tenser than the task of cutting bread would have required.

"Well, wow... okay. I'll need to actually search my books. You know some of the ladies back then would apply something to their skin for scars or bruises. But I'm not sure if it'll work on surgical stuff. I'll let you know?" Jason replied carefully.

"Thank you, Jason, for considering. While it shames me for being vain, it is... rather crucial." Alfred smiled at him.

"No problem, Alf," Jason patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to Damian's room - where each and every surveillance device has been disabled and/or misdirected by the combination of Tim, Barbara, and Damian's own skills.

Once Jason walked in and closed the doors of Damian's room behind him, he was greeted by both Damian and Dick's voices.

"That man is not my father, Todd! I believe my grandparents may still be in danger!" Damian exclaimed as Dick stormed over and announced 'There was an increase of drone activities outside, that's why I brought Damian in!' - followed by Damian and Dick glaring at each other, and Damian said, "Todd, we might need to acquire some new exit strategy!" at the same time as Dick saying, 'I've sent a text to Tim, but he hasn't answered. I've texted Babs, though!'

Jason cringed at them. "Whoa! Hold up! If this is how you two kids report, nobody would need surveillance equipment to hear you from Gotham Harbor!" he snarled. The two promptly stopped and glared at each other again, as if they both were hoping to have Superman's laser vision or something. "Okay, I've heard you both, and I'm upping the ante. Alfred just asked me practically for a method to dissolve foreign objects inside someone's body and allude that someone in the house is not who they seemed. And said someone might be Bruce."

Damian threw his fist to the air, stating, "I knew it!"

Dick's eyes were wide as saucers. "Okay... I would... I've wanted to say the same thing since we got in. But I was kinda scared I might be wrong. What makes you sure?"

"Alfred referred to Bruce in the past tense when talking to me," Jason said. "You? --wait, no, Damian first."

"He looked and behaved differently than the videos mother had shown me," Damian replied.

"I second Damian on this. Well, dude... we need to communicate better, don't we?" Dick said, telling the last bit toward Damian. "I've only met him once, way back when-- when my parents were... you know. But like I've told you, I remember everything from that day as if it has just happened. I remember Bruce Wayne was there with a blonde girl wearing chinchilla fur, a 50s hairdo, and an actual pearl pin. But when my parents... right after, I saw him directing traffic of people out of the tent calmly. His presence then was literally calming, like, everyone was looking at him for direction. This Bruce... generally, looked too nervous on everything; if that makes sense."

Jason thought a moment. Dick was really good at reading people's body language - even the most stoic Alfred. Before Bane was removed, Dick's assessment of Alfred was that he was uncomfortable with Bane, yet very welcoming of Damian. Thus his immediate trust in Alfred. However, since Bane was arrested and proven to not have been a Wayne; Jason hasn't got the chance to ask Dick to re-assess Alfred.

"Okay, I'll retrieve the video footage of your dad from 10 years ago from the League's servers. We'll cross-check. We'll tell the Birds once we're sure, yeah?" Jason suggested.

"Agreed," Damian nodded slowly.

"I'll have Tim keeping an eye on the Doc and Missus while we're at it, though. I mean, you know, precautions and all." Dick suggested.

"Okay, call Tim. If he doesn't answer, call Babs or his mom. I'd like this whole thing settled quickly before Bruce can do anything to harm Damian." Jason huffed a breath slowly, wondering what the hell is it with the Waynes that seemed to run on endless conspiracy theories, anyway.

[kairos-polaris]

Eris(Demon’s daughter)

Demon's head daughter couldn't be anything other than perfect. She must master every martial art. Her education must be flawless. Failure is not a choice. Even the smallest mistake is a disgrace.

Marinette knew it. That’s why spent hours and hours training and perfectimg her form. But something was lacking and she craved to find it.

Chapter 2, 3, 4, 5

On the far east, high up in the mountains is a city, Nanda Parbat. There hides and lives Ra's al Ghul, the demon's head. 

The walls in Nanda Parbat have no warmth. They're permanently soaked in blood and death. At night you can hear the anguish screams of the long dead. 

In a small room without windows lives a girl with eyes as blue as sapphires and hair as black as night. Dark skin makes pale scars visible. 

The only welcome visitor is the girl's sister. She will tend to the girl's wounds and help her prepare for sleep. 

"You must be more careful, Marinette." Berated her Talia. "Your training will grow harder with time. You must be ready for this, ya albi. I can't lose you."

"Why do we have to train so hard?" 

"Father has a lot of enemies. We must know how to protect ourselves," Talia answers softly. 

"The League doesn't condone uselessness and everyone must reach a certain standard. It's even higher for us because of our father. And I am sure you enjoy a part of your training, don't you?"

"Yes, I enjoyed training with Lady Shiva. She taught me how to use a war fan. Dansen uchiwa* is my favorite, but mubuchae is nice, too." At her sister's questioning look she continued: It protects my arm and I can use it to dodge attacks. Then I will stab the attacker using balisong**. .. And I can also.." the next fifteen minutes were spent discussing different ways of using war fans and daggers. They briefly touched on the subject of Japanese martial arts and weapon making.

"...and that's why I prefer straight blades." Talia stopped talking and looked at Marinette. The girl was staring at the wall. 

"Why can't we just leave?" Marinette suddenly spoke. "We would go everywhere and stay nowhere. You could pose as my guardian. If anyone asked about parents, we would give them a sob story about their death." The brief training with Lady Shiva made the walls in Nanda Parbat feel more suffocating than before.

"Oh, ya albi, you know that's impossible. Father would track us down immediately. He has ears and eyes everywhere." Talia chuckled bitterly. Somehow her answer made Mari more enthusiastic. 

"But you want to run away! That's what matters! One day we will bribe Nyssa and she will help us. And we won't have to live under our father's tumb." 

Talia just hugged her sister. Getting out of the League of Shadows was impossible for them. Especially for them. She could only pray that Marinette would be happy one day.

***

Eight-year-old Marinette understood it the day she failed for the first time. She stood there, before her father, waiting for his verdict. The small voice in her head whispered how it wasn’t her fault, that even famous designers don’t have this much security as Gabriel Agreste does. “I should have been prepared for everything. This failure will be my lesson if I survive this,” she thought bitterly.

Demon's head daughter couldn't be anything other than perfect. She must master every martial art. Her education must be flawless. Failure is not a choice. Even the smallest mistake is a disgrace.

Demon's head daughter isn't a child, she's a weapon. A perfectly sharpened dagger.

"You failed me, Marinette. Not only you didn’t kill that man, but you were caught and Talia had to save you. As your master, I’m furious, as your father, I’m disappointed.”

The cold stone hurt her knees and her ears burnt from embarrassment. His words were sharper than the sharpest knife. That’s why he is called Demon’s Head after all.   

“I’m sorry, father. It won’t happen again. I..” Marinette tried her best not to falter under Ra’s’ glare.   “I don’t remember giving you permission to speak.” His words left goosebumps on her skin and Marinette had to bite her tongue to stay silent. “Your actions will have consequences, so be prepared for your punishment. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, father,” she answered softly, but Ra’s seemed satisfied and dismissed Marinette to her room. She left as fast as possible.In her room, she would think about the nature of punishment and try to be prepared. Hey, how does one prepare for their death?

Marinette was sure Ra’s wouldn’t let her walk away without proper punishment, but she decided to humor her sister.

***

After that Marinette had to spend even more time training and studying. Talia was happy to hear that. “Ya albi, if you continue training, you won’t fail again. You were lucky father decided to pardon you.”

Marinette spent a lot of time practicing with her blades and darts. War fans slowly became her weapon of choice. You can hide it. You can show off with it. There are multiple ways of using it making it perfect for Marinette.

Unfortunately, Marinette never used sharp tessen during practice. Later, Marinette would regret it, because fighting ten trained and armed assassins with two fans wasn’t her definition of fun.

Scratch it. It was hell. Given the number of attacks, she could avoid them only for so long. She couldn’t take out her daggers.

Swish. Kick. Jump. Repeat.

Marinette slowly rose from the water. The first thing she noticed was the absence of scars. "How many new scars will litter my skin before I die again?" She wondered silently.

Marinette was skilled, but so were the assassins. And it still took them an hour to take her down. “At least I managed to injure them, too.”    

***

Waking up in Lazarus' Pits wasn't something she wanted to repeat ever again. The water felt gross on her skin and the smell made her want to throw up.

Another prominent difference was anxiety she could feel in her bones. She craved to do something, to the blood of her killers on her hands, to feel how life leaves their bodies. A whisper in her head sung how glorious it would feel to get her revenge.

"It's not punishment when I feel so high and mighty, father. It's a gift I will treasure." With these words Marinette dug her nails into her arm, leaving small marks. The skin felt too clean for her.

“Marinette,” he greeted her. “I see you’re feeling better now. What is the reason behind your visit?”

In this state, Marinette didn't notice her sister entered. Talia stood there watching the last bits of Marinette's innocence fly to hell. It was the point of no return.

***

Ra’s was sitting in his room when he felt movement behind him.

Marinette tilted her head and slowly answered; “I wanted to ask your permission to return the favor.”

“You can do whatever you want to them. Just leave them alive. But you were very effective at taking them down, so three of them can’t stand.” This was the closest thing to praise she could ever hear from Ra’s al Ghul.

One time Talia gave her a book with Greek myths. It soon became her favorite book. She loved the stories about gods, and heroes, and monsters. The heroes knew when to kill and when to spare someone. Marinette could admire this.

“Thank you, father.” With a small nod, she left to enact her revenge. If there were more screams than usual, nobody paid attention to it.  

***

Reading was a great way to escape reality. Books told her about different worlds and people. Unfortunately, Ra’s had to approve every book given to her. Only for very significant achievement could she read something other than textbooks.

“I just don’t understand what you see in that fury! His enemies constantly escape Arkham and he still won’t kill them. His negligence hurts other people and they still call him a hero! Father respects him, too!” it wasn’t a common occurrence for them to argue about Batman, but Marinette was just too annoyed with Talia’s pinning.

“Bruce impressed our father with his skills and devotion to a cause. Bruce is hopeful. He believes everyone can change and be a better version of themselves. We know that’s not true and some people will never change.”

Marinette wasn’t impressed. “I know some people can’t change. We work with some of them.” Talia just laughed at her expression..

“One day you will fall in love. That day you will understand me.”

“Ew, disgusting. I will never, ever fall in love. Especially not with a hero. I’m sure of it.”  Talia just shook her head fondly. Her little sister still has so much to learn.

“And where will you go, Marinette?” Asked Talia. Marinette spared her a glance noting bags under her eyes and multiple cuts.

***

Eleven-year-old Marinette had an agency. She had a goal. She knew what she wanted to do.

“Gotham. I will tell Batman everything I know about the Light. But don’t think I do it to help him. I want to destroy everything for our father.” She threw a suitcase with much more force than needed.

“Why now? You seemed so eager to please him.”

“Pits did something with my brain and changed my memories about The fight. I thought it was their own decision. With this knowledge I asked father for permission to avenge myself. My overall perception of him changed.”

“And now you are angry. But you shouldn’t run away like this. Batman won’t trust you. He will think you are a double agent sent by the League.” Marinette just grinned at that.

“I will give B information and leave immediately. I’m going to travel the world. I have money and I can take care of myself.” Talia sighed and took Marinete’s face in her hands.

“I know I can’t change your mind, but please be safe, ya albi.” She whispered softly.

“Thank you, Tals.”

“You are more important to me than our father.”

[gimmeromance]

Ask from a user who wants to remain anonymous:

(anonymous, thanks!)

I. am. so. tired. of so many romance novels reusing the same jobs/careers over and over. Can you recommend a romance where at least one of the leads has a unique job?

It absolutely can be frustrating to read the same careers over and over and over again. I mean there are actual categories featuring billionaires (businessmen), Sports Players, Policeman/Fireman, Law Enforcement, Military, Doctors/Medical Personnel, Celebrities, Politicians, Musicians, teachers/educators, thief/mafia/criminals, and lawyers. We’re also expanding this to take out things like assistants, governesses, students, authors, courtesan/prostitute/brothel owner, chefs, food service, milliners (historical only), ship captain (historical), gambling hell/casino owners (historical), servants (historical), bakers, pirates, royalty/nobility, cowboys, farmers, and ranchers.  So here’s some romances where one or more leads has a “unique” career.

Also for the sake of our sanity, we’re limiting this to Contemporary and Historical and not YA. LOL

Contemporary

The Agent by Nancy Herkness - M/F, Open Door, Billionaire Romance, Romantic Suspense (she owns a hair salon and runs a safe haven for battered women) (trigger warning: stalking, trigger warning: domestic abuse)

Always for You by Tawdra Kandle - M/F, Open Door, Friends to Lovers, Small Town Romance, Office Romance (they’re both veterinarians)

The Brown Sisters Series by Talia Hibbert - M/F, Open Door, Interracial Romance, Plus-Sized Heroine Book One: Get a Life, Chloe Brown - Disabled Romance (she’s a website developer, he’s an apartment manager) (trigger warning: domestic abuse, trigger warning: ableism) Book Two: Take a Hint, Dani Brown - Bisexual Romance, Muslim Hero, Pagan Heroine (he’s a security guard) (trigger warning: family death) (positive mental illness portrayal) Book Three: Act Your Age, Eve Brown - Autistic Leads (he’s a bed & breakfast owner) (trigger warning: anxiety, trigger warning: ableism)

Beg, Borrow, or Steal by Susie Tate - M/F, Closed Door, Medical Romance, Age Gap, Teacher/Student (she’s a stripper)

On Pointe by Shelly Ellis - M/F, Open Door, Office Romance (she runs the ballet studio, he teaches hip hop dance there)

A Spoonful of Spice by Liwen Y. Ho - M/F, No Sex, Office Romance (they both work in IT)

Vic’s Tasty Treat by Christina Rose Andrews - M/F, Open Door, Holiday Romance, Interracial Romance, Older Woman/Younger Man (she’s an app developer)

Dirty Sweet Wild by Julie Kriss - M/F, Open Door, Billionaire Romance, Disabled Romance (she’s a stripper) (positive mental illness portrayal)

Knowing His Secret by KC Falls - M/F, Open Door, Billionaire Romance (she’s a summer theater director)

Her Fake Island Wedding by Caitlyn Lynch - M/F, Open Door, Vacation Romance, Fake Relationship (she’s a marine biologist, he's a dive instructor)

Loving Maddie from A to Z by Kelly Jamieson - M/M/F, Open Door, Friends to Lovers, BDSM (one of the men is a photojournalist)

A Very English Christmas by Keira Andrews - M/M, Open Door, Holiday Romance, Amish Romance (they construct handmade furniture)

Constant Craving by Tamara Lush - M/F, Open Door, Second Chance Romance, Interracial Romance, Billionaire Romance (she’s a newspaper editor)

Royal Baby Maker by Nora Flite - M/F, Open Door, Royalty Romance (she’s a dog walker)

Deep Blue by Kristy McCaffrey - M/F, Open Door (she’s a marine biologist, he’s an underwater filmmaker)

Unwrapping Jade by Melanie Shawn - M/F, Open Door, Second Chance Romance (he started a business training service dogs for veterans with PTSD) (trigger warning: miscarriage)

Second to None by Nancy Herkness - M/F, Open Door, Billionaire Romance, Second Chance Romance (she runs an animal shelter)

Manhunt by Ann Voss Peterson - M/F, Open Door, Romantic Suspense (she’s an accountant)

Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade - M/F, Open Door, Plus-Sized Heroine, Neurodivergent Characters, Dyslexia Representation (she’s an environmental scientist/soil tester) (trigger warning: ableism, trigger warning: fatphobia)

Accepting Fate by Deanna Chase - M/F, Open Door, Soulmates (she works in an art gallery)

One Shade of Gray by Monica Corwin - M/F, Open Door, Age Gap, Kind of Paranormal (she’s a theater producer) (positive mental illness portrayal)

Just Another Silly Love Song by Rich Amooi - M/F, Open Door, Romantic Comedy, Middle-Aged Romance, Enemies to Lovers (they are rival radio show hosts forced to work together)

Historical

Heiress in Red Silk by Madeline Hunter - M/F, Open Door, Regency Romance (he’s an inventor)

The Rakess by Scarlett Peckham - M/F, Open Door, Regency Romance (he’s an architect) (trigger warning: lots of them)

A Duke in Time by Janna MacGregor - M/F, Open Door, Regency Romance (she owns a linen shop, he runs a charity that refinishes and constructs furniture) (trigger warning: bigamy) (in pre-release: comes out 6/29/2021)

The Pirate and I by Katharine Ashe - M/F, Open Door, Regency Romance, Romantic Suspense (she’s a perfumer, he’s a book seller/binder/appraiser) (trigger warning: child abuse, trigger warning: petnapping)

Heiress for Hire by Madeline Hunter - M/F, Open Door, Regency Romance (she’s a historical private investigator) (trigger warning: domestic abuse)

Come Home to Me - M/F, Open Door, Time Travel Romance, Western Romance (he’s a wagon train guide)

The Mesmerist by Pam McCutcheon - M/F, Open Door, Time Travel Romance, Victorian Romance (he’s a hypnotist/mesmerist)

The Embroidered Spoon by Jayne Davis - M/F,  No Sex, Historical Romance, Regency Romance, (He’s a Wool Factory owner)

*These suggestions are not endorsements. Please read the description and the reviews to decide whether you want to read the books!

[dessarious]

The Angel of Death Pt28

Inspired by this Story Starter by @someone-ev

AO3   Prologue   Beginning   Previous   Next

“Of course I do Nooroo, but it’s dangerous for you to come with me. After this mess there’s likely to be others coming after me until I kill enough of them to make them stop. Not to mention the organization that trained me was under the impression that I was dead and one of them, at least, is going to recognize the way I fight.” Tris glared at Fu the entire time she was speaking. None of this would have happened if he had just talked to her rather than running off to try and get himself killed. She was too focused on him and didn’t notice a string connected to Adrien move until it was too late.

“So you’re the one who murdered my husband.” She was mentally cursing in every language she knew as a woman, obviously wielding Duusu’s Miraculous, stepped out of the shadows. She’d given the box to Chloe for safe keeping, not so she could just hand Miraculous out to everyone she knew. At this point she half expected Luka and Kagami to show up in costume. Granted it was nice to know that the strings weren’t at all impacted by the Miraculous, at least not to her.

“I am.” Tris couldn’t tell by the woman’s tone if she was upset by that fact or not, but she wasn’t about to back down now. She did what was necessary, and she’d do it again.

“She’s also the one that fixed Duusu’s Miraculous and saved you.” Nooroo was floating protectively in front of her glaring at everyone indiscriminately. She wasn’t certain why the Kwami had decided she was his to guard but he’d been incredibly overprotective since the night she’d rescued him. Chat Noir went over to whisper in the woman’s ear and her expression went from confused to shocked. Great, just what she needed, one more person knowing how old she was. She’d gone three years with no one finding out and now there was absolutely no hope of ever keeping it underwraps. There were going to be assassins coming at her left and right to prove they’re better than her. Because her life wasn’t screwed up enough as it was.

“This is really not the place for this conversation. I was live streaming the fight, or rather massacre, to try and stop the rumors now going around that I’m an inept child thanks to someone telling these idiots information I foolishly divulged.” Fu just looked at her calmly, no sign of guilt or remorse. She was seconds away from stabbing him just to let out frustrations and he didn’t seem to sense the danger. She really shouldn’t be surprised. “So if everyone is going to insist on lecturing me before I disappear I suggest we go elsewhere.” She would just leave but knowing Chloe especially, someone would try to come after her and that would just get them killed.

The Miraculous holders looked confused more than anything else. Wonder Woman was frowning at her the same way all her teachers did when she corrected their misinformation. She couldn’t wait for whatever was going to come out of her. Fu looked disappointed, it was a look she was used to getting from Talia to be honest. Her Nonna though… she looked smug? No that wasn’t it. Proud maybe? It had been so long since anyone had looked at her like that she honestly wasn’t sure.

“Lead on then.” She took the cue from Gina and headed back out the side entrance assuming the others would follow. She was honestly hoping they didn’t but there was no way she’d get that lucky. She ended up leading them to the warehouse she’d used to meet Fu at. It seemed appropriate and even if everyone else seemed willing to divulge their identities and secrets she wasn’t going to help them. She was tempted to take them back to Fu’s shop just to get back at him, but the Kwami would be in more danger if she did that. When they got there the others detransformed and it took everything in her not to yell at them for their lack of caution. Plagg, Tikki, and Duusu all immediately rushed her to cling onto her.

“You can’t just leave.”

“You can’t just leave me here with them! I haven’t had this much fun in centuries.”

“Even if you do leave the Miraculous will still be in danger since people will come after Fu to find you. We must make a plan before anything else.” Duusu’s plea and Plagg’s insulted tone didn’t carry near the weight of Tikki’s reason. The Kwami of creation had a point and she really did need to figure out how to keep them all safe. Fu she couldn’t care less about but the Kwami needed to be protected.

“And you’re all just okay with the fact that she makes a living killing people?” Wonder Woman sounded somewhere between insulted and confused by the Kwami’s behavior though she had no idea why.

“My fairy only goes after those that need to be killed. Men and women who destroy innocent lives for no reason other than power and greed. She’s doing the world a favor and you should all be thanking her for it.” Yep, definitely pride. It was so weird to hear that directed at her.

“You’re the new roommate that Adrien was telling me about. The one with no social skills that’s making the faculty cry and have mental breakdowns.” She just shrugged at Mme. Agreste’s comment but Chloe let out a bark of laughter.

“You should have seen her tear apart the history teacher's doctoral thesis. It was a thing of beauty. She’s not allowed near any of the general education teachers now.” She still didn’t understand what the big deal was. He should have been happy she pointed out his mistakes before he actually turned it in.

“You really killed my father?” Adrien’s timid question made her pause. For all Plagg seemed to think he wouldn’t hate her for it, people tended to be rather attached to their family whether they deserved it or not.

“Yes.” He was obviously expecting more of a response but she wasn’t going to make excuses for it. She was hired to do a job and she did it, end of story. Chloe let out a strangled noise.

“You’re an assassin.” Tris just nodded. Wasn’t that already established? “Someone paid you to go after Hawkmoth.” She nodded again finally understanding where she was going with this. “My father hired you didn’t he?”

AO3   Prologue   Beginning   Previous    Next

Ko-Fi

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[kimberly-spirits13]

Right Hand Man (Loyal to the End) Pt. 2

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Synopsis: You were like Talia’s daughter. The only thing was that you weren’t and instead, you had grown up in the foster care system and at a young age were taken by and personally trained by Talia. Along the way, you meet Damian and the two of you start to work side by side and eventually, after some time become closer and closer. However, when disaster in the league strikes, you face balancing an old, forgotten life as a normal child and the burden of right hand to the demon heir.

Also, I didn’t want to have Damian so young in this so just go with it. I’m thinking maybe early 15 or almost 16 at the most. Idk I just don’t like writing for young Dami.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2273

Pt. 1

        You walked around the squad that you were assigned to watch over this morning. It was an easy viewing as you picked out each mistake that was made by the fighters. The objective of this time was to make improvements in skills where needed in the time that you were waiting for Damian to arrive for sparing. Now that you were older, the two of you trained outside almost to set an example for the rest of the members in lower ranks. It was almost a shaming method as well. Look at these two teenagers, they are years ahead of you in skill and training.

        A few minutes of this routine had passed. You were getting tired of no action yourself. Damian must have been attending to some private matters since he was never late. Talia made sure of that for one part. Eventually, the mood shifted into something even more serious and focused and you knew that he had entered the training grounds.

        “How kind of you to finally show up.” You said drawing your sword.

        “I had previous arrangements to attend to.” Damian returned taking his own sword in hand.

        “An eventful morning for the demon.”

        “Indeed, it was General.”

        You could tell that there were eyes on you the entire time that the two of you were training. It wasn’t uncommon but for the longest time, it took a while to get used to in the start of this newer training environment. Eventually you did get very accustomed to it and started playing harder. It was important to look like you really had the best training and grasp of what you were doing. Otherwise you were a bigger target. That was something you didn’t want under any circumstances. Damian didn’t mind. Instead, he seemed to like the challenge you presented. It wasn’t often in the field he ever got any sort of action like this. It was pretty typical for take downs to be easy, child’s play really. At least, that’s what he liked to think of it.

        For what started feeling like hours, you and Damian trained along with the rest of the recruits. It was sweltering hot outside. The sun’s heat beat down on everyone there without any sign of stopping. The cloudless sky offered no shelter from the rays either. You finally defeated Damian for the last time. Your fights would go until the other slipped up and then they’d start over until you both new that it was time to leave.

        “You haven’t heard anything about strange happenings or something of concern of late have you?” You asked entering the building.

        “No, I didn’t. Today was a common briefing of training and education. I anticipate you will have a meeting with mother at a later time over the same subjects.” Damian replied as the two of you turned into a different hallway heading to the cafeteria, “Mother was acting strange this morning however. I do not know if it has to do with our shared concerns.”

        You didn’t say anything, instead you just nodded before the two of you entered the giant room that everyone sat and ate in. There were different rooms situated inside for different ranks but mostly everyone sat together. It was difficult to escape the people which was something that was meant to be established but for the top players. They stuck together. That’s another reason why you and Damian were so close.

        “I want you to sit with me today instead of with the other group.” Damian said as the two of you took what you wanted for lunch and walked to where he and his mother always sat and ate. Talia was to be late today because of matters she was handling by herself. You two sat in silence for some time.

        “The recruits seemed ... mostly normal for the decent part of today.” You said, “In other words, there have been no red flags of anything internal. I walked around the entirety of the grounds to check.”

        “Maybe Mother and Grandfather are planning something that will just be sudden.” Damian pondered out loud, “We most likely won’t have to worry about it.”

        “It will probably affect me more than you.” You commented, “I’m pretty certain that you’d be safer when it came to some mass elimination scheme.”

        “You should be confident in your place among the League.”

        “I am, I just know that things can change at the random.” “That’s what makes it exciting around here.” “You know, other than the constant threat of being killed.”

        Damian spared you a smirk at the comment but nothing else. You saw it and knew he understood for some part.

        “Where is your next mission?” He asked.

        “It’s to Italy.” “I should only be gone for two, maybe three days at most.” “It’s basic kill a diplomat here, a politician there kind of mission before you ask.”

        Damian cocked a brow, “How did you know I’d ask?”         “You always do al Ghul.”

        “That is the one part of your training and job that I envy.”

        “And that is?” You asked.

        “You get to go and actually do things outside of the League’s headquarters and fight.” He answered simply.

        “Don’t let your mother hear that.” You chuckled only a bit to yourself.

        It was only in times like these or even just only on the roof tops that you’d ever let yourself crack a smile or make anything close to a joke. It was the only time you’d actually be even a sliver of yourself around someone. That is, whatever of yourself was left from all of these years spent here. You thought that what you did was important. It kept your branch of the League together even. Assigned to watch over Damian and be his right hand, that is what you defined yourself by. It was always position to you. Whether you liked it or not, this wasn’t the place to be friendly or all that different from the rest besides in skill and ruthlessness.

        “We’d better get to our class.” You said breaking the silence that came between you two.

        Damian stood up followed by you and the two of you headed to your tutoring session. It wasn’t long before this was over, in fact today was probably the last you’d see your teacher alive.

_______________________________________________________________________

        The tutor seemed to know just as well as you and Damian that this was their last day probably seeing the light of day. The room that the two of you were seated in was a well- lit room with only a table and large chalk board. You could practically feel the nervous energy that your tutor was radiating today. It got worse and worse every day leading up to it. You almost wanted to feel bad for him but you didn’t. That’s where you sometimes come to question the League. It was always taught in some lessons that it was human nature to be compassionate and not disassociate from others. People were supposed to need and feel for each other. You didn’t though. The League made sure of that very quickly.

        The lesson was quick, you didn’t really care much about what the tutor was saying. It was mainly just an overview of what you and Damian had learned. You two exchanged looks at the end of the session before walking out of the room. Talia was there with another recruit. You knew what the other was there to do when he walked into the room you were just in, you didn’t know however why Talia was there.

        “Y/N, I need to speak with you about your upcoming mission.” She said.

        You nodded goodbye to Damian before leaving with Talia.

        “I trust that your lessons were more than suitable?” She asked.

        “Correct, they were of desirable level.” You replied walking by her side.

        “Good. Now about this mission.” Talia turned a corner and into a room before shutting the door behind you, “This isn’t just another simple mission.” “The diplomats that you’re targeting will have highly trained security teams. You must choose the right moment to strike which I’d like to think you might be able to do from your training. Make sure there is as little of security as possible. After you accomplish stage one, move your squad onto stage two of killing the others and then return as soon as possible.” “Any questions? This should be standard by now.”

        “Understood.” You nodded.

        “In addition, with the success of your past few missions, it has been decided that you will be elevated into a newer status of High General. Still by the same title, you have more tasks and control over your own squads. I do expect that you will handle this well. You start after your mission with the same schedule. However, you will be training more in the middle ranks.”

        “Thank you, I am honored.” You said sincerely before cocking a brow, “However, I must ask since it has been troubling me for the past few days. Is there anything that I should be expecting that will happen? Are there any sweeping of the ranks that I should know about?”

        “I see that you must have picked up on something.” Talia said, “This is confidential information. I am only sharing this with you because of your status and position. There have been concerns raised of an attack from outer forces. We have not figured out which ones yet, you should not concern yourself with that yet. However, the only thing besides your mission and daily tasks you should be concerned with, is the safety of my son, the heir to the League. There is no true telling information on what will happen so keep on your highest guard.”

        “Yes Talia.”

        There was a pause that filled the room. You knew that there was something else.

        “General. That is the position you have been given. That is not however your only job.” Talia started, “Your main, most important job is to be my son’s second hand. If something were to ever happen to myself or The Demon Head, I fully expect you to stay with Damian over everything. Do not make me regret my decision in picking you off the ground of that orphanage.”

        “My loyalties are well placed Talia. I stay with him until death just as I was assigned from the start of this all. As High General, as the Demon’s second, you have my word.”

         Eventually, you left. The rest of the day was ahead of you and tomorrow, you’d be suiting up for Italy. Ready to leave the League even for a mission, you were antsy the rest of the day. Not enough for notice as usual though. Damian knew however. He could tell that your game was a bit off since this morning. He could tell that you were either anticipating more than what you gave off, or you were preparing yourself for this next mission a bit too much.

_______________________________________________________________________

        That night he confronted you as the two of you sat on the rooftop.

        “You were off of your game today Y/N.” Damian said almost catching you off guard.

        “So, I was.”

        “What caused this rarity?”

        “I am just ready to start my mission. I have a brewing feeling that it should go over very well.” You answered, “That is what Talia wanted to discuss with me earlier today.”

        “It was just this and nothing else?” Damian cocked his brow suspiciously.

        “Correct.” You reassured, “There was nothing else besides talk of schooling. She did inform me that I will be taking the High General position which was gratifying.”

        “You have my congratulations Y/N.” He commended.

        “And you have my appreciation Damian.”

        “The only thing that I did pick up from the conversation wasn’t... much. Just keep on your highest guard.”

        You didn’t bother saying anything else. Watching the stars and then the clouds float by every now and again was enough. It was easy to just stay up there and do nothing. There was no schedule besides having to get at least some sleep that night. There were no recruits training out in the heat. And best of all, it was silent and cool outside. This was the best time and always would be a place of your favorite memories from life.

        “So, do you have any plans of changing your squad?” Damian asked.

        “In what way? My squad is perfectly formed. There shouldn’t be any issues within it. Not unless you’re insinuating that you want to join al Ghul.” You smirked.    

        “No, not at all. I’d rather not be taking orders from my right hand.” He shot back.

        “And I’d rather not be giving orders to one of the most stubborn people I know.”

        “Very funny L/N.”

        “Oh, so we’re on last name status. I must have said something to upset the young Demon.” You poked fun at him as you typically did.

        “You’d like to think you could.”

        “Anyways, regarding your question. I will not be adding or eliminating anyone from my squad unless I find someone in the lower ranks more suitable that can and will advance faster. Nevertheless, I am not actively looking for any new blood as some might call it.”

        “I understand.” Damian stood up to leave, “Will I see you before your mission tomorrow?”

        “Most definitely during breakfast. My team and I are leaving for Italy right after that though.” You answered jumping down from the roof top and onto the pavement below before walking inside, and down a hall until you eventually split from Damian to go to your room.

I hope you guys are enjoying this series. I have the series lined up in my schedule to post this time so hopefully it doesn’t just ... die lol. Anyways I hope you’re all having a wonderful day and week and are staying safe and healthy!

Tag List:

@idkmanicantenglish

[matildashoney]

Loving You’s the Antidote: Chapter Eleven

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @cock-a-doodely-doo, @ihearthemcallingforyou​, @goldenfeelin​, @detroitkiwis​, @wherearethewatermelons​

talk to me about it! feedback is greatly appreciated!

this chapter contains themes of sexual content please read with caution.

author’s note: there are no words to describe what a despicable time this is in the world, right now. i know this is a trying time, and i am posting this chapter early to hopefully give you space from the negativitiy if you want one. take care of yourself. i love you. i’m here for you. i see you. here is a page of links for you to sign petitions, learn, and donate. i encourge everyone to educate themselves. thank you for reading.

Going out was fine in the beginning.

Talia and Mylie were sat in the chairs opposite Amelie, their drinks nursed in their hands, talking about their boyfriends and their lives and their jobs. Her phone is vibrating every so often, likely from Harry, but they’ve already given her flack for not going out with her friends enough – even though she sees her best friend nearly five times a week – and always being attached to his hip when they’re together – which makes sense when he’s out of the country about six months a year – and it’s made her too anxious to excuse herself to check it. Harry would understand when she explained it.

“Can you tell me what you two are staring at or are you just going to keep looking past me like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Getting a weird vibe from this guy that’s been staring at you all night,” Mylie says, squinting to try and get a better glance at who it was. “Don’t know, maybe I’m seeing things.”

“Anyways,” Talia interrupts, trying to break the underlying tension that is hovering above their table and causing all three girls to draw circles around their glasses, “How’s Harry? You two alright? Haven’t seen him in a while.”

Amelie smiles, her lips tingling with the mixture of tequila and the sensation of Harry’s lips on hers. “Harry and I are good. Love that man, I do.” Her teeth clink against the rim of the glass, taking the rest of the drink smoothly down her throat and standing. “Want another?”

“One for me,” Mylie smiles, sliding her glass towards Amelie. “Want me to come?”

“Not that crowded,” Amelie shrugs, taking a deep breath and gathering all her anxiety into her stomach. “I can do it.”

You can do it. Ask for a drink, wait for it, leave. Two minutes max. You can do this. Harry would be really proud of you for going out and being able to do it. You can do it.

Amelie walks to the wooden bar, slightly less crowded than it had been an hour and a half ago when they arrived, Talia and Mylie’s attention turned towards their own conversation. Her arms lean on the sticky counter as she waits, the bartender walking away to make her drinks, her hand reaching into her pocket to grab her phone and message him back, to tell him that everything was going alright. Amelie’s mind is elsewhere, clouded with tequila and rum and the drink that the bartender made when they walked in.

Until a hand lingers a bit too long on her lower back and a breath hits the back of her neck.

Amelie’s muscles immediately tense, dropping her phone on the counter and her head turning over her shoulder, all of the oxygen knocking out of her lungs at the sight in front of her.

“Look at you,” Jack slurs, his hand brushing the curls hanging over Amelie’s shoulder behind her back. “Get rid of that boyfriend of yours, finally?”

Amelie gulps, shaking her head, her hands reaching for her phone, fingers shaking, her eyes drawing out a path that would take her to her friends and they could leave. Her thumb is too sweaty to swipe across her screen, and every breath that she takes seems to be weighted and never make it into her lungs.

“Doubt that he’d ever leave you alone when you’re out. Always has to ‘ave an eye on you,” he mumbles, drawing his fingertip along her arm, chuckling darkly when she shrugs him away. “Must not be here, then.”

“Leave me alone, Jack,” Amelie spits, her tone echoing the fear that is welling tears in her eyes. Harry’s contact was the first on her screen, a few swipes and there would be a message to get him to her.

He steps impossibly closer, their chests touching, his breath hitting her face. His height is much shorter than she remembers, her fingers tapping anxiously against the bar as her eyes try to make contact with her friends or anyone that could see that the situation was uncomfortable.

And before Amelie could realise what was happening, Jack was leaning in to kiss her, his breath hot on her mouth, her head turning quickly as he grabbed her forearm, his lips hard and rough against her cheek. Her lips parted as she squeaked, her hand pressed against his chest, pushing him away. Her vision fades into flashing stars and her cheeks heat, all of the blood rushing to her head.

He stumbles backwards, fumbling into the security guard. His eyes fade into darkness that Amelie doesn’t recognise and there is this pit in her stomach that is making her want to be sick. Her eyes squeeze shut, trying to picture herself anywhere but where she is, anticipating his hand on her jaw and forcing her to kiss him like he likely would have, until one of the bartenders walks towards her, gently setting her hand on her shoulder and nodding towards the security guard, eyeing the situation.

Amelie is barely able to make out the words that are being said to her, only the thoughts about getting outside, to the fresh air, to the one setting where her lungs could get oxygen and feel full. Talia and Mylie nearly run over to her, grabbing her hands and her phone and bringing her outside, their concerned voices making her head feel like it’s going to implode at any given moment. Her hands are shaking as she messily scrambles to call the only person that would understand her, that would help her.

His phone barely reaches a second ring, his breathing slightly heavy through the receiver. His voice is rasped and worried as if the air was knocked out of his lungs the moment she called.

“Harry?” Amelie hiccups, her throat tight and tears falling down her cheeks.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” Harry whispers, his legs swinging over the edge of their mattress and reaching for the nearest trainers.

“’m out and ‘m scared,” she mutters, her breathing shaky as she walks further away from Mylie and Talia and beneath a light, her phone tight against her cheek, her body pressed against the brick wall. “Need to come home, Harry. I need you. I want to come home.”

“Mon ange, ce qui se passe?”

“’m sorry ‘m calling so late,” she chokes, trying to catch her breath.

“Hey, hey, j'ai besoin que tu respires pour moi,” he soothes, his voice calming and talking her through. His fingers brush through his hair, drying the sweat that gathered there. His voice is tense, hating that he’s not there to talk her through her panic attack, to squeeze her hand and remind her that he’s there because he’s sure that she’s near the point where she might go unconscious because of how heavy she’s breathing. “Don’t have to apologise to me. ‘m always here. Can you tell me where you are?”

“’m at some bar,” she says shakily, drying her eyes and trying to see anything she recognised around her. “Haven’t been to this one before, I don’t think. Mylie and Talia wanted to try it.”

Harry is starting to get nervous. He knows her. He is sure that she wouldn’t have called unless something was really wrong. That’s when he knows. He is sure that he knows what was making her feel uncomfortable, or who rather, and the thought alone makes him livid and his fists grip the duvet.

“Can I come and get you? Would that be that alright?” Harry questions nervously, a quiet hum in agreement all that was needed. He walks downstairs, mumbling that he would be right there, his hands reaching for a sweatshirt to toss over his torso to avoid meeting the bitter air. “Getting in the car, now,” he says, his fingers tugging at his roots and bringing it to a knot on the top of his head, the length becoming a burden with the knots and the strands sticking to his forehead. “’m gon’a stay on the phone until we’re together, alright?”

“Okay.”

And the line goes silent for a minute, Mylie and Talia walking over with their boyfriends and talking to Amelie, yet every thought in her head is spinning and she wishes that Harry would talk more to take her mind away from the feeling of his lips on her cheek and the harsh grasp that he had on her arm. His touch stung, cold and bruising, much like a wasp stinging the centre of someone’s chest. Her breathing is shaky, coming in pants, and Harry’s about to swear at every stoplight that he hits on his way to her.

Twenty minutes is twenty minutes too long.

His thumb drums dramatically against the steering wheel, his eyes scanning over the outside terraces of restaurants and bars and the nightclubs scattered in between. “Can you tell me what happened? Can you tell me why you want to leave?” Harry’s fingertips tap against the screen, using the directions to her location to guide him. Hearing her take a breath; Harry isn’t sure he wants to know the answer, even though that’s what he has to do. “Do you want to wait until we’re together?”

Amelie sucks in a breath. “Had fun at first,” she says very slowly, the alcohol evident in her voice, “and all ‘f us were dancing, drinking. Mylie and I wanted more, and it didn’t look like the line for the bar was too crowded, and it was me that offered to go. Felt someone touch m’ back but didn’t know who. Turned around and it was, you know.” Her voice goes silent. “He leaned in and said something ‘bout you, he smelt like booze,” she whispers. “’m not even sure what happened but ‘e went in to kiss me and I pushed ‘im away. I was really uncomfortable, Harry.” He can hear her start to cry, again. All Harry wants is to be holding Amelie in his arms, comforting her. “That’s not, I just. He isn’t supposed to do that.”

“No,” Harry breathes, trying to subdue his anger. He is furious. Only with Amelie’s luck would Jack be there the one night that she decided to go out without him. Jack was the reason Amelie only went out with Jenny or Harry, to begin with. Harry should’ve been there, with her, protecting her. Guilt rises into his chest, his throat, and he thinks he might be sick. “He isn’t supposed to do that. That’s wrong. This isn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

Amelie nods her head, oblivious to the fact that Harry can’t outright see her.

His chest heaves with a staggered breath as his tires roll to the nearest parking space, the sight of her making him want to collapse. Her eyes are hooded, and her cheeks are puffy. He could only imagine how hard she’s been crying. He can imagine that she’s nearly gone unconscious, by now. “Can see you, baby. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” Amelie mutters, ending their call and turning slightly to where the slamming sound was coming from, Harry’s body coming into view as his feet pound against the pavement running towards her.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, immediately wrapping his arms around her head and pulling her into his arms, his lips touching her hair, his hands holding her tightly into him. “Are you alright?” Amelie grips onto his sweatshirt, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to only think about his breathing and his scent and his heartbeat that is beating in her hears with her head against his chest.

“Harry, we didn’t even know it was him,” Mylie rushes over, her hands tucked into her pockets, her heart breaking at the sight. Amelie always appeared so beyond the thing with Jack – not that they really knew what happened other than a messy breakup – but this put everything in an entirely new perspective. “Thought it was someone just watching us because of you two, honestly.”

Harry doesn’t want to blame Amelie’s friends. His frustration, his anger, his guilt, is begging him to blame someone other than himself. “Not your fault.” His hands gently brushing through Amelie’s curls and trying to soothe her. “Have they kicked him out?”

“Think so.”

“I’m going to go in there and talk to someone,” Harry says, his hands gently dropping from around Amelie���s torso and causing her to panic.

“Harry,” Amelie whispers dryly, barely lifting her head from his chest and squeezing his hips, “Harry, no.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry sighs, returning his hands to her hair and kissing her hairline, “you’re okay.” His cheek rests on her head, his eyes meeting the worried eyes of her friends, “Don’t worry, I’ve got her.” He kisses her hair, squeezing her shoulders and whispering, “Can I take you home? Can we go home?”

Amelie nods against his chest, grabbing his hand and interlocking her fingers with his, her body walking one step ahead to make the distance between where she once was. Harry opens the car door for her, kissing her temple and wiping the tears on her cheeks before moving back.

“Can you kiss me?”

“Course,” Harry smiles softly, disheartened by the trepidation in her voice. Her cheek turns to him, a tear wiped by her thumb as he whispers, “On your cheek?”

“Mhm.”

Harry’s heart sinks to his stomach. His lips gently touch her cheek, kissing away a tear that betrays her and falls against his mouth. He kisses her jaw, her cheek, her temple, making his way to her mouth to kiss her deeply, longingly. Her hand grabs his as he’s about to walk around and get into the car, her eyes flicking between his lips and his eyes. He kisses her, giving her reign, allowing her to mould her lips in whichever way she wants against his.

Harry has to take a breath, guilt washing over him in the worst way. He could’ve been there. He knows that she hates going out without him or Jenny. He knows that she doesn’t feel safe that way, that her anxiety is too overwhelming and makes her feel that way. Harry knows that Amelie wanted to prove that she was making progress more so to herself than anyone else, and she would have been so excited to tell him that she went to the bar all by herself and the night went great.

Until it didn’t.

“Have about twenty minutes until we get home,” Harry says, easing onto the street and beginning their journey home. “Glad you called me. Thank you for calling.”

“Had no idea what to do,” Amelie whispers dumbfounded, the alcohol still swirling in her brain. “Kept trying to press on your contact but m’hand was shaking and I couldn’t get it.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, kissing her knuckles and squeezing her hand, the volume on the music silent. “Everything’s alright now. I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Did I wake you?” she wonders, wet eyelashes pressed on her cheeks, her lips pursing together as the red tint of her lipstick begins to fade away. “Didn’t mean to.” Her hand reaches for the water settled in the console for her, taking a heavy sip and letting the cool liquid smooth down her throat.

Harry snorts, shaking his head and pressing a hard kiss to her hand. “Didn’t wake me, angel.”

“Oh no.”

His chuckle vibrates his chest, his heart warm as a smile tugs longingly at the corners of her lips. “Don’t think you want to know what I was doing.”

“Well, I mean, now yeah, since you’ve teased it, I want to know. Especially, since now, we’re together at a bright,” Amelie says, staring at the time on her phone and waiting a few seconds for the digits to process in her brain, “two in the morning.”

“Look, sometimes, things get a little, hard, and you have to do some things,” Harry begins, his lips curved in the cheesiest smile, a hard laugh bellowing from his chest as Amelie slips beneath the seatbelt and further into the seat, her hand covering her eyes. “You asked!”

“Oh my god.”

“Thinking of you, if that helps any.”

“No,” she says, biting her bottom lip to suppress a laugh itching at her throat, her cheeks flushed with his confession. “No, Harry, it really doesn’t.” Harry turns to stare at her, quirking his eyebrow suggestively and nodding his head. “Okay, a teensy bit.”

Harry and Amelie talk quietly about nonsense the rest of the way home, trying to distract from the sexual tension and the lingering conversation waiting to be had eventually. Her thighs were held tightly together, her hand and her phone between her legs, his hand holding hers on his thigh and away from the tent in his jeans.

Harry’s hand lingers on Amelie’s lower back as they walk inside, his hands gently holding her hips to make sure that she wouldn’t stumble going to their bedroom upstairs, her knees slightly shaky and her words drawn together as the alcohol begins to wear through her system.

Amelie’s eyes flicker to the alarm on the wall near their bedroom door. Harry nods towards the ensuite, his lips pursed together as her fingertips begin to take her clothes and toss everything into the laundry bin, taking her favourite robe from behind the door and wrapping it tightly around her torso. Harry waits for the three beeps before following her, frowning as she harshly takes a washcloth and begins rubbing at her cheek.

And Harry knows why.

“Baby,” Harry whispers, making eye contact in the mirror before setting his hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing her muscles and kissing her hair. “Gentle with yourself.”

“Can feel it on my skin,” Amelie whispers, her eyes welling with tears at the thought. “Want it to go away.”

“Can I do it? I’ll take it all off.” Harry waits for Amelie to nod, his hands holding her hips and lifting her onto the bathroom counter, her thighs spread slightly for him to stand between. “Love the way you do your makeup, you know. Always makes your eyes so bright.”

His hands gently wipe away the tears and the foundation and the running mascara, revealing her bare cheeks and supple lips and soft eyes, begging to be peppered with kisses. He kisses her cheek, his breathing choking in his throat as he waits to see how her reaction will go. Her cheek leans into his hand, her lips turning to meet his and her hands holding his shoulders, the kisses languid and sloppy and sweet.

“Come on,” Harry breathes, circling his hands around her waist and gently setting her on the ground, walking around her and turning on the water. “Know you better than anyone and the only way for you to avoid a hangover is a shower and a good night’s rest.”

Amelie wonders, hooking the robe near the shower door and stepping under the warm water, her hair wet and clinging to her skin beneath the pour. Her eyes meet his through the glass wall, her arms folding in front of her chest. “Coming in?”

“Don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Harry sighs, scratching the back of his head. He wanted nothing more than to be in the shower with her, to be touching her – even innocently – and telling her that he loves her. He wants to tell her now more than ever.

“Harry, ‘s just a shower.”

His fingers tuck between his teeth, biting at the skin nervously. He shrugs, nodding and pushing his jeans down his legs and slipping his shirt over his head. “Alright, alright.”

“Not even briefs?” she giggles, her fingertips gently massaging her shampoo into her hair, all of her movements drawn out with the lingering alcohol in her veins.

“Go on,” he laughs, stepping inside the shower, squeezing her shoulders and nudging her to turn under the water, his body slightly stepped to the side, “turn around and let me rinse out your hair. Gon’a got soap in your eyes if you keep opening them to talk to me.”

“Takin’ care ‘f me,” Amelie smirks, wrapping her arms around his torso and pulling him into her, puckering her lips and tilting her head back to inch her lips towards his.

“Always will,” Harry says assuredly, kissing the corner of her lips and gently squeezing out the water in her curls. “Could literally ask me to give you the clothes on my back and you’d have them.” His hands reach for her sponge, gently running the soap and water on the material and coasting it along her skin, kissing her neck and she leans into his touch.

Her voice is quiet, the water running over her skin as his hands gently rub into her shoulders, the muscles that tightened with the anxiety and the panic slowly loosening enough to allow her to have a night’s rest and to reconvene in the morning. His touched her hairline, allowing her to lay against his chest and have the water wash over their connected skin. “Have you seen anyone since we went on, you know.”

“On a break.”

Amelie nods, “That.”

“Haven’t seen anyone but your beautiful face every day,” Harry smiles softly, his thumb dragging along her cheek and his lips pecking her temple, his hands reaching to turn off the water and grab a towel from the rack nearest to them. “You’re it. Always.”

Amelie walks onto the rug first, holding onto Harry’s hand and wrapping the towel tightly around her torso her feet pressing into the fibres to dry and avoid slipping on the damp tile. Her hands reach for his warm sweatshirt on the counter, her hands rummaging around the drawer in their wardrobe for her favourite pair of silk shorts and pulling the material up her thighs.

Her voice is quiet as Harry gets dressed behind her, the cotton briefs clinging to his hips, his hair dried in a towel as she tucks the sweatshirt sleeves over her hands and walks to the bedframe, sorting her side of the bed and opening up the duvet for him to climb into.

“Cosy in that?” Harry asks, turning off the bathroom light and shutting the door, all of the lamps slowly beginning to turn over and the room becoming bright only by the moonlight shining through the thin curtains.

Harry’s fingers are about to shut his light when Amelie whispers, “Dumbest thing I’ve ever done was talk about that break.”

“Didn’t really give you much of a choice,” Harry sighs, turning to look at Amelie and sitting his back against the headboard.

“Have a choice, now,” she says, swinging her thigh over his waist, and straddling him, her fingertips coasting along his chest, her lips peppering kisses from his jaw to his neck.

“Hey,” he whispers, his head tilting slightly to allow her lips to make suckling marks on his neck. Harry was Amelie’s, undoubtedly and unabashedly. “Doll, we shouldn’t.”

“Baby.”

“Don’t want the first time we make love to be when you’re drunk, Ames. Don’t want you to regret that,” Harry gulps, his hands holding her thighs, gripping onto her lightly and feeling her skin under his fingertips.

“Could never regret you,” Amelie confesses, gently bringing her lips to hover over his, hot breaths panted over his mouth. “Kiss me, then. Not a fake kiss. Kiss me like you love me.” Her words are interrupted by hiccups, and Harry couldn’t find her more attractive – freshly showered, holding onto him, kissing him, wanting to profess how she feels; that’s more than he’s gotten in nearly a month. Her eyes meet his with all sincerity. “’ve been, dreamin’ about this.”

Harry’s thumb lightly pulls her bottom lip, “Have you? Missed these lips.”

Amelie kisses his fingertip, “Mhm.”

His fingers brush her hair away from her face, his hands cupping her jaw sweetly and kissing her cheek. “Are you sure?”

Her hands wrap around his wrists, having his hands firm on her face and unable to move. “Mhm.”

“Ames.” His voice is barely above a whisper, mouth inching towards her wet lips, the slight flush of pink on the flesh making his stomach flip with butterflies. His mouth is longing to be on hers.

“Je t’aime,” Amelie says, a smile tugging at her lips as Harry’s eyes move away from her lips and meet her stare, surprise and love overwhelming his emotions and features, “and I want you to kiss me.”

“Je t’aime,” Harry grins, brushing his nose against hers and lightly pressing a kiss to her lips. “Could listen to you say that for the rest of m’life.”

“And you will.”

Harry’s lips crash onto Amelie’s, their mouths messily colliding, their rhythm slowly building from sloppy to sweet, perfect alignment and steady intake of breaths as their tongue taste the lingering mint and tequila that is between their lips. Harry moans into her mouth, soaking in the way her fingers slowly inch into his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck, his hands holding her thighs and her back, their arms tightly around each other, barely giving space for their lungs to intake any oxygen.

Amelie’s kiss is begging for something more, desperate for Harry to take away whatever is lingering in her brain. Maybe it’s the anxiety. Maybe it’s the underlying doubt that they won’t work out a second time around. Maybe it’s the memory of someone else’s lips on her skin that she never wants to feel again. Harry answers it all with his lips on hers, kissing her cheeks and her mouth and her jaw and her cupid’s bow, leaving a bright red mark on the cut of her jaw below her ear and whispering his love for her.

Harry’s kiss is longing, aching for more of Amelie. His hair longed to be tugged by her, his neck marked by her teeth, his skin scratched by her nails, his sensed overwhelmed by her scent. He wanted all of her immersed in him, to be in her skin and knowing her. He wanted to erase the memories of anyone that’s ever hurt that, that’s ever made her feel like she deserves less than every star in the sky. His lips are slightly harder against hers when a tear slips down her cheek, needing her to feel his love deeper than the surface.

Her hand trails down his chest, lingering over where their thighs meet. “Have to give you a cut on tequila, Amelie Fay,” Harry chuckles dryly, gently moving her hand and bringing her fingers back to his hair. “Can’t resist you when you come home when you’re like this.”

“That’s what I love,” Amelie smiles, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. Her lips touch right below his ear, gently marking his skin.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, gently sliding further into the duvet and bringing the covers over Amelie’s back, tucking their bodies together and his hands settling over the curves of her bum and trailing up her spine.

“Knowing that you have that control shows that you really love me,” she whispers against his skin, gently kissing over his jawline and making her way to the corner of his lips. “That’s good, you know, because, I love you.”

His eyes well with tears. Harry needed Amelie to say that more than he thought. “I love you. God, I love you. Don’t leave me, ever again,” he croaks, his fingers tangling in her hair and gently coaxing her to meet his glossy stare. “Need you, angel.”

“Need you,” Amelie murmurs, her thumbs gently wiping the tears from beneath his eyes. Her heart is thumping so loudly in her chest that it can be heard in her eardrums, a bass drum kicking a new beat. All that she wants is to have Harry’s lips on hers. “I love you. Je t’aime.”

“I love you. I’ll love you to the ends of the Earth. Do you hear me?” Harry breathes, his lips realigning with hers and making a home on the mouth that knows his so perfectly.

Her voice is hushed against his lips, barely breaking apart their kiss and the moonlight fanning over their bodies in the middle of the mattress. His hands are planted on her hips, firm and steady. “Don’t let me go.”

“Never, Ames. I never will.”

Harry can only pray that Amelie will feel the same in the morning.

~

“Oh mon Dieu. Oh mon Dieu. Oh mon Dieu.”

Harry could hear the panic in her voice. He’s only heard the stress and anxiety in her voice like this a few times, namely when they’re arguing, and there is a twisting in his stomach that is telling him that whatever is going to happen isn’t going to be good. He stirs, slowly prying his eyes open and blinking to focus his vision, the clock on his phone reading 06:28.

They’ve only been asleep for four hours, and Harry knows that Amelie’s had a nightmare that she didn’t wake up from.

Amelie’s hands were covering her face, her hair slightly matted from sweat and his fingers and the way he was tangled in her hair as they kissed. And the way the whole scene is panning out, it’s as if there is no recollection of the night before, her hands running over her body, ensuring that there are clothes covering her skin and the stickiness is only from the closeness of their bodies throughout the night. Amelie reaches to take Harry’s hand away from her hips, her knees pulling to her chest and her fingertips pushing against her temples.

And the panic attack is in action, full force, without a sign of hesitation or hindrance. Harry can see it happening.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Amelie mumbles under her breath, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that she swears Harry could hear it from beside her. “Harry, I need you to let go of me.”

“’ey,” Harry murmurs, the rasp in his voice coating every word with exhaustion, “tell me why you’re panicking. Can tell me, I’m right here. ‘s only a nightmare, you’re safe.”

“I, I.” Like that, every word in Amelie’s vocabulary is beginning to disappear. All she can see is the balcony and the promise of fresh air and the slight possibility of her heart to quit beating against her ribs in a way that would make it implode and rupture. “Let go, please.”

Harry immediately loosens his grip. He can see her making a mental path to the balcony and his heart falls to the pit of his stomach. He reaches for a pair sweatpants that are strewn on the chair near the vanity, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and yanking them onto his hips. “Jus’ le’ me turn the alarm off. One minute.” Harry walks to the bedroom door, clicking the buttons to turn the alarm to the setting that wouldn’t blare a horn when she opens the door. “Doll.”

Harry’s eyes follow Amelie as she rushes outside, satin shorts on her hips, her knuckles turning white as she holds onto the railing for dear life, as if moving would make the entire world turn upside down and she would be the first to fall. On the corner of the horizon, the sunrise is beginning to show promise of the new day, the dew clinging to her skin and slight breeze of the morning chill hitting her cheeks. Her thighs are covered in goosebumps, but there is nothing she can feel besides the heat of her blood pressure in her cheeks. He rubs his eyes, trying to gather all of his words and thoughts and wake himself enough to at least know why she’s panicking.

“Oh mon Dieu, je t'ai appelé. Je n'aurais pas dû appeler,” she murmurs, her words slurring together in a string of sound. “Qu'est-ce que je fais, bordel?” Heaving breaths, her chest is tight, the overwhelming weight on her lungs suffocating her.

Oh my god, I called you. I shouldn’t have called. What the fuck am I doing?

Harry takes a second to try and grasp what she’s saying. He can’t comprehend what she’s saying that quickly and that jumbled. “Say it again. Slower, please.”

“This is,” she says quietly, pausing to think but every word and thought is scrambled and making her head hurt. “Can’t breathe.”

“Ames,” Harry says calmly, taking a breath and standing beside her against the railing. He is well aware that she doesn’t like to be touched during a panic attack, that’ll it’ll cause her to hide away and never speak, but she has to see him, “slow down. Talk to me. Called me at the bar, last night, remember? Came home with you. Only us, here.”

“Can see everything,” Amelie whimpers, her fingertips curling around her hair, her nails scratching her scalp, her eyes squeezing shut. “Had a nightmare and it wasn’t you touching me. Can’t make it stop.” Harry’s eyes are fixated on her, his body seeming too close even though he is far away. “Don’t want to see it, again.” Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, and Harry is sure that she’ll pass out at any moment if she doesn’t take a breath. He sighs as she turns away, laying her palms flat against the bench that decorated the space beneath the lingering window – the bench that she chose nearly a week after she moved in.

“Know that, baby,” Harry breathes, leaning his back against the balcony and watching her every movement, careful to not overwhelm or scare her. His voice is soft and soothing, all of his words chosen very carefully and particularly. “Want to take it all away from you.”

“But you can’t, Harry,” Amelie says desperately, taking a seat on the bench, her fingertips digging into her knees, her eyes set on the flowers beneath the balcony and in the garden. All of her hope is drained from her voice. “He’s never going to go away.”

“Amelie, that’s not true. Don’t start thinking backwards, now.”

“Do you think I did something to want to be this way? Is that why you said the things you did? Do you think that?” Her voice cracks between sobs, her chest shaking beneath the tears and the unsteady breathing. Her eyes can barely open with how heavy the tears are. “Harry, I don’t know why I’m like this. This wasn’t my choice.”

“Mon ange, écoutez-moi,” Harry whispers, his stomach twisted into knots and a sob lodged in his throat. He should’ve never said the things he did. Never. “Know that this wasn’t your fault, none of it. Have nothing to say for m’self other than ‘m a proper arsehole.” He takes a step forward, their feet barely touching. “Have had a lot of time for reflection and learning over the last month, you know. Understand a lot more, now. Don’t have to forgive me, but I am sorry, Amelie. I’m so sorry.”

Her fingernails scratch at her bare skin, leaving crescent marks in her flesh. “Jack told me I was going to be alone. He told me and I didn’t believe him,” Amelie sniffles, her teeth biting at her bottom lip and tearing at the skin. Her tongue swipes over the flesh, taking the blood that trickles from the cut. “You’re going to hate me like everyone else. You are. Only a matter of time.”

“You think that I’m going hate you,” he sighs, taking a seat from the corner of the balcony and bringing it towards the bench, his knees knocking with hers and his fingers set on his thighs, nervous to take her hands. “You think that I could hate the love of my life.” Harry’s eyes meet Amelie’s when she lifts her head – he knew that would bring her attention to him. His heart falls into his stomach, taking in the tears staining her cheeks and the bright red circling her eyes. “I’ll never hate you.”

“Can’t believe you,” she mumbles, taking the sleeve of her sweatshirt and wiping her skin roughly, scratching at her cheeks and heaving a staggered breath into the fabric. “Anxiety, it ruins everything. Depression, it ruins everything. Me, I ruin everything.”

“No, you don’t ruin everything.”

“Our holiday was ruined by me.”

Harry’s lungs collapse in his chest. “Our holiday was not ruined by your anxiety. Us staying inside an extra day or two and leaving two days early didn’t affect our holiday in the slightest.” His hands hesitantly reach for hers, his throat swallowing a cry when her hands retract further into her sleeves. “Could have gone home the very next day with you and it wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

Having a spiral on holiday effectively ruins it, Harry.

“Can you listen to me fo’ a second? One minute, that’s all.” Amelie nods silently. “Haven’t felt this much guilt in a long time, and I am sorry. There were so many opportunities to make the conversations and the behaviours that were triggering to you stop, and I didn’t take them. Overstepped a boundary that you had and that was wrong.” Harry’s thumbs gently wipe the tears falling down her cheeks. “Had every sign that you needed me, that you were having anxiety, that your depression was there, and I did nothing. That’s all my fault. Not yours. Have every right to be mad at me, to not forgive me.” His heart squeezes so tight in his chest at the thought of her never forgiving him that he thinks he might break into sobs. “Don’t have to forgive me, that’s okay. Need you to know that I know what I did, I’m sorry, and I’ll never do it, again.”

I forgive you. I forgive you and I love you. That’s what Amelie wants to say. “Je n'aurais pas dû te laisser tomber amoureux de moi. I’m sorry I don’t communicate, and I tend to react on my emotions. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. Je suis désolé de ne pas suffire. Tu mérites mieux.”

“Don’t say that, Ames,” Harry whispers, aggressively wiping away the tears that fall down his cheeks and itch his skin. “Couldn’t have stopped me from falling in love with you if you tried and you are more than enough to me. All I want is you, you and me. Don’t you dare say that.” His eyes are welling over with tears, desperately wishing that they could go back to last night, where they were smiling and kissing and promising to be together, that they love each other and always will.

“Harry, you’re going to fall out of love with me. One day you’re not going to want me,” Amelie says, her jaw clenched as she wipes her eyes and stands on her feet, avoiding Harry’s reach for her hand and stepping towards the balcony railing, her eyes meeting the bare colours of the flowers in the garden.

“That’s not true, angel. I swear on my life. I swear to God. I love you,” Harry cries, pushing his body from the chair and sliding it away, disheartened by the way her shoulders tense at the words and her jaw tenses. “I love you.”

And despite the way Amelie refuses to turn around and utter the three words that Harry so desperately wants to hear, Harry knows that Amelie loves him, that she’s in love with him. He has to believe that, otherwise, all of his defences and will to let the words her anxiety is spewing from her lips pass without regard will disappear and he will break. But she needs him, right now, and he refuses to abandon her. Harry refuses to let Amelie slip through his fingers, again.

“But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our–”

Harry knows that Amelie’s anxiety can make her second guess everything, to make her overthink and believe in the falsities that have been told to her time and time again. Her thoughts make a façade making her believe that she is undeserving of the love in her life, and all the kindness that encompasses her. Her heart wrenches and twists and squeezes against her ribs, hiding away from saying the three words that she desperately wanted to, making an exterior that would guard anyone against ever touching her soul and her emotions and love, that would protect her in the least convincing way. All that Amelie’s gone through to be where she is, to make the art she creates, to love the way she loves, to treat others way she does, is played into the thoughts that make her question all of behaviours and reactions and relationships.

Anxiety makes her mistake the love in her life with hate for herself, and Harry refuses to let that happen again.

“Finish the quote, baby,” Harry says, standing behind Amelie and sucking in a deep breath. “But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our–”

“From our love,” Amelie whispers, releasing her grasp on the railing and taking a step backwards, returning to her seat on the bench. Her head is pounding and there is a heat creeping onto her cheeks, her blood pressure raising under the sporadic breaths leaving her chest.

“Tell me you love me, angel. Need you to tell me that you love me, baby. You have to remember that feeling,” Harry says slightly louder, slightly more abrasive, taking another step away from her to allow her to move without touching him, “and unless you say that you don’t love me, you’re not moving, you’re not leaving me.”

“Don’t shout at me.” Harry wasn’t shouting. Not yet, at least. He can feel himself getting ready to yell, though. He is ready to yell at the thoughts in Amelie’s brain that make her second guess everything she does, that make her feel like she’s not worthy to be loved by him, that make her feel like she isn’t enough.

“Fine,” Harry’s voice is bitter as he resumes sitting in the chair set in the middle of the balcony, his arms folded in front of his chest. “That’s fine.” He stares at her blankly, his emotions unable to be portrayed on his face. “Guess we’ll stay here all fucking day.”

This is where it ends, her anxiety says. This is where he falls out of love with you. This is where he kicks you out onto the streets and makes you go to your parents’ house, where you have to move out in a week and find a place to live and somehow pretend that you aren’t in love with him and have to settle for someone and marry them just because they like you enough. This is why you ended up with Jack. This is why bad things happen. This is why. This is.

“Um,” Amelie chokes out, tears beginning run along her cheeks, her skin burning with the heat of her blood pressure, “you know, I can go. I’ll leave. I’m sorry. I should go. I’m so fucking sorry. I ruin everything. I didn’t mean to do this. I don’t want you to hate me. I’m sorry.” Her head is pounding so deeply in her temples that she has to squeeze her eyes shut, the tears falling onto her bare thighs, and she swears that if she makes one sudden movement, her mind will go unconscious.

Harry leans forward in the chair, sliding slightly forwards and leaning over his knees, their legs barely touching. “Did I not just tell you that you’re not leaving until you say you don’t love me.” He heaves a sigh, standing on his feet and walking to the railing, defeat etched into his features and sadness echoed in his words. “Tú devez arrêter de faire cela. Tú dois arrêter de me faire ça. ’m begging you to stop running away. You’re saying all of these things and insisting that you have to leave. Arrête de parler de partir et parle moi!” Harry shouts, slamming his hand into the metal bannister, his knuckles white as he clutches onto the rail, his body turned away from hers as she clings to the edge of the bench overlooking the garden, every muscle in her body frozen and unable to move. “Arrête de nous faire ça et dis moi ce qui ne va pas.”

You have to stop doing this. You have to stop doing this to me. Quit talking about leaving and talk to me! Stop doing this to us and tell me what’s wrong.

Say something, her brain screams. Say something before he hates you.

And quiet washes over them.

Harry swallows a sob, turning around and walking to Amelie, his feet carrying him over to the bench, his body uncomfortably kneeling against the concrete, his hands holding her thighs, making her feel his touch, making her know that he is there. “Je sais que tu m'aimes.”

Amelie’s eyes barely meet his, tears streaming and the light eyes that Harry knows are washed out, blurred, dim. Her hands shake against his, her chest rising and falling much too rapidly. All of this, every tear and shaky breath and unsteady hand is a make of anxiety and a nightmare and a toxic relationship. Harry wants to take it all away.

That’s the thing that Harry doesn’t understand. All of Amelie’s boundaries have disappeared with him. All of the guards to protect her heart and her brain and her soul. All of the measures to ensure that she never fell in love, that she never gave herself the opportunity to broken.

Harry has made all of that disappear, and that is what is so terrifying.

He has made her fall so in love that she would impulsively make any decision to see him, to touch him, to kiss him, to be with him because he said the three words that she needs to hear. He makes her feel so sure of herself, that she doesn’t think twice about it. He makes her feel like she is everything and anything, that she can do everything and anything.

That is the scariest thing; there is someone that makes you feel so loved, that you feel like you can do anything. Love is that powerful.

“Tú ne savez pas que,” Amelie whispers, desperately trying to break the intensity that is building between them. Telling Harry that she’s in love with him would prove her point, that the love that they have has broken every boundary she has ever set for herself, that she has ever set to protect herself. “Je vais tout foutre en l'air. Je vais te faire me détester.”

“Listen to me, baby, please,” Harry pleads, grabbing her hands and interlocking her fingers with his, squeezing and kissing her skin. “There’s nothing you could do to mess with you and me, that could fuck us over. Could never hate you, Amelie, ever. Have to believe me on that.”

One day you’re going to hate me. One day it’s going to happen. I am so afraid of that day. I don’t want you to hate me.

“Regarde-moi dans les yeux et dis-moi que tu ne m'aimes pas,” Harry retorts, secure in his judgement and every word that is rolling of his lips.

Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t love me.

Harry is angry with Amelie – angry that the anxiety is winning and that all those thoughts are going to change the way she sees herself, the way she sees him, the way she sees their relationship. Harry is angry with himself – angry that he hasn’t done enough to make sure that all those thoughts are gone, that they are deep enough in her worries that they’re never a second glance, that they’ve almost disappeared from the atmosphere. Harry is just fucking angry. “Have to say that, because that’s the only thing that could ever screw this up, fuck this up. That’s the only thing that could ever make me hate you.”

“Can’t do that,” Amelie mutters, sucking in a heavy breath and willing her eyes to meet his. Harry’s features portray his exhaustion, now, and her heart aches knowing that she’s caused this. She loves him. Amelie never wants him to feel this way. Harry moves only slightly, his arms gently coaxing around her waist and slowly encouraging her to stand. He wraps his arms around her, only tight enough to ensure that her knees wouldn’t give out, his face leaning away to stare at her. He can feel the sobs being held in her chest, the tightness in her breath, the shakiness as she clutches onto his back. “You know I can’t say that.”

“Pour une fois, s'il te plaît, arrête de te battre contre mon amour pour toi.”

For once, please, stop fighting against my love for you.

Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper compared to her rasped tone, thick with tears and regret and anxiety. “’s not that simple, Harry.” Harry releases her when she takes hold on the railing, his hands holding the metal beside her body, uneasy with how shaky she is against and frightened that she might fall. “Don’t deserve for you to love me, like this.”

“Tell me why. Tell me why you aren’t allowed to be in love. Tell me why I can’t love you.”

“Can’t,” Amelie murmurs, sucking in a heavy breath and turning around, tucking her arms in front of her chest and facing Harry, his eyes meeting hers and his arms tightening closer by her sides, holding her between him and the metal railing. “Can’t have a love like this.”

Harry is frustrated, his breathing heavy, his body adjusting the weight in his legs and making his eyes meet level with hers. “’m asking, no, begging, you, do not shut me out. One of your rules is to never leave someone that needs you. Guess what? I need you. Anxiety makes you think that no one needs you. Depression makes you think that no one needs you. I need you, Amelie. I fucking need you.”

“Harry.”

His cheeks stained with tears, his eyes glossed over and etched with pain. “Have all of me with you, and you promised that you wouldn’t leave me, that you need me.” Harry is desperate for Amelie, now. “On that day you scared me nearly to death because you wouldn’t answer m’calls or m’texts, remember, you told me you would never leave me. On the phone last night, when you were plastered and petrified to come home, our home, alone, you said you needed me. On our bed, last night, when we were kissing and touching, when you were clinging to me and squeezed me and kissed me, you said you always wanted us together. Can’t have you say goodbye to me this way, not when you promised.” Harry’s eyes are etched with pain and fear. He is afraid of what she is going to tell him, more so, what her anxiety is telling her to say. “Tell me this isn’t goodbye, fo’ fuck’s sake. I’m begging you, now, Ames.”

“This isn’t goodbye. This isn’t it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Amelie says quietly, her heart breaking watching the emotions move through his body. “I need you; I do. I need you, Harry. I’m not fighting you anymore. I’m sorry. I’m scared, I’m really scared. I’m sorry. Je t’aime. I’m sorry for everything. Je t’aime.”

Harry wraps his arms around her waist, his face tucked into her neck, tears wetting her skin, his hands squeezing her hips, gripping her sweatshirt in his fists. His grip is telling her that he’s there, telling him that she’s there. “Don’t fucking scare me like that ever again. Makin’ me think you can’t love me anymore.”

“Okay,” Amelie agrees quietly, untangling her arms from her chest, circling around his shoulders, her fingertips finding the baby curls at his neck, her face falling to his neck and her lips breathing out a sob. “’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Don’t,” Harry says flatly, his hands squeezing her torso, her chest tucked tightly against his, physically melting into his touch.

“Harry, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she cries, shaking her head against him, holding him tighter. “’m sorry.” Harry waits to say anything, knowing that she isn’t quite finished. “Gotta get better. Give me time.”

“J'attendrai avec tu,” he whispers, gently ghosting his fingers along her skin, reaching to take her cheeks in his hands and slowly bringing her to face him. “I love you. You’re not doing this alone.”

I’ll wait with you.

Harry takes a breath, gathering his emotions and steadying his breathing, his thumbs tracing over her cheekbones and drying the stray tears that stained her skin. “Je suis désolé, je n'ai pas pu le voir. Couldn’t see that things were getting bad.” His chest is so tight, his lungs could implode. He could apologise. He could make things right. He could fix this. “Wasn’t there for you like I should have been. I’m sorry. Going to be different, now, I promise.”

I’m sorry I couldn’t see it.

“Je ne voulais pas être un fardeau, that’s why I didn’t tell you,” she mutters, gently kissing his palm, her eyes glossy as she stares at him. “Going to talk to you from now on, I promise.”

I didn’t want to be a burden.

“’ey, you are never a burden,” Harry assures her, his lips touching her forehead, her nose, her chin comfortingly. “Could do nothing to make me not love you or be in love with you. Quite literally, you are everything to me.” All of Harry’s love pours through his words. “Only thing I need in this fucking life is you. Only you.”

“I,” Amelie breathes, squeezing her eyes and blinking away her tears, having a moment to gather her courage, the three words she has to say stuck in her throat. “I love you.”

Harry chastely touches his lips to hers, his heart breaking as he feels the tears stain his cheeks. He savours in the way she tastes, the way she kisses him with so much passion he knows her heart is his without having to say a word. His thumbs brush her cheeks, his lips repeatedly kissing hers for comfort, for love, for reassurance.

Harry doesn’t know what’s going to happen when his mouth leaves hers. He doesn’t know what she’s going to say and how she’s going to react. He doesn’t know anything other than his love for her, and the love that she has for him.

Harry remembers the quote that Amelie marked from their favourite novel, the one that reminded her of him, the reminded her of how she felt about loving him. All of it, every ounce of love that he has for her, all of the thoughts and dreams and feelings for her, everything makes sense.

They were meant to love each other.

Kissing her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, Harry lets his lips linger on her hairline, his arms around her shoulders, bringing her into his chest and holding her tightly. Her hands are squeezing his torso, her face tucked into his neck and sucking in deep breaths, steadying her shaking and trying to process all the thoughts in her head.

“Can feel you thinking,” Harry whispers, his mouth on her hair, his eyes taking in the way the sun is beginning to rise over the mountains far off in the distance and the birds are beginning to sing their morning song.

“Thinking about Finch and Violet, and the Jovian-Plutonian Effect and the Moon,” Amelie tells, her fingertips drawing on his skin and her lips parting with the heavy breaths reaching her lungs. Her cheeks are starting to feel cooler, her blood pressure slowly lessening and her head beginning to feel less achy. “Think we were made to love each other, somehow. Don’t know how that happened, but I’d like to think we were.”

Harry grins, his arms loosening around her shoulders and his hands cupping her cheeks, his mouth tilting into a kiss and soaking in the way her lips so perfectly mould to his. “I love you. I love you so fucking much.” His words are rushed over, needing to have her kiss, the sensation intoxicating and enticing. All that Harry wants is to share his love with her so intimately. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime,” Amelie breathes, squeezing his hips and gently sponging kisses along his jaw, making a light path to his ear. “Fais-moi l'amour.”

His head tilts to meet her lips, his hands gently coasting along her figure and wrapping under her thighs, encouraging her to settle on his hips, her legs tightly circled around his waist and her arms squeezing his shoulders, the balcony door quietly shutting as they messily walk towards the bed, as their breathing hitched together as their mouths entangle in longing and loving kisses. His heart is thumping against his ribs, nearly extending through his lungs and radiating through his fingertips. Her skin is glowing beneath the rising sun, his fingertips trailing over her cheeks and tucking beneath the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling the material over her head and tossing it onto the ground. Her fingers shove the waistband of his sweats down his legs, their movements wanting and hurried.

“Missed this,” Harry breathes, light kisses feathering across her chest, suckling over the moon tattooed on her sternum, his hands dragging her silk shorts down her legs and laying a kiss on her calves as he slinks over her naked body. “Missed you.”

“Missed you,” Amelie whimpers, a moan echoing around their bedroom as Harry’s fingertips gently taste her arousal, his thumb rubbing circles over the bundle of nerves between her spread thighs, her fingers wrapped in his hair as their kiss becomes more passionate and heavy with the wetness on their skin. “Entrez en moi.”

Harry nearly groans at the thought, “Might not take me that long since all ‘ve been using only m’hand for nearly a month.” His weight is supported on his forearms, his hand tugging at his cock, heavy in his hands, his thumb dragging her arousal over his throbbing tip and teasing her heat. “God, ‘ve missed being this close to you. J'ai manqué de faire l'amour avec toi.”

Harry and Amelie gasp in unison as his cock gently eases into her core, her warmth swallowing him, her velvet walls taking all of him inch by inch, her thighs around his waist and her muscles soft under his touch. His hips are flush against her pelvis, thrusting and grinding into her, his thumb drawing patterns on her nerves as her fingernails scratch at his back, dragging along his spine and breathing as his cock reaches her hilt, sponging against the sweetest spot inside of her. “Harry.”

“Love you,” Harry moans, his lips suckling on her throat and marking her skin with a bright magenta bruise. His pelvis grinds with the arch of her hips, her heels digging into his bum and bringing his cock as intimately inside her warmth as physically possible. Her arousal sounds around the bedroom as he thrusts into her, the wetness on their thighs and their sheets and their moans encouraging the sweet love. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you,” Amelie whispers, a tear falling down her cheek with the pleasure and the orgasm growing so deliciously in her stomach, squeezing his cock tightly inside and feeling as though the emotions and the love and pleasure is bringing her face to face with heaven. Harry was heaven. “Want you always.”

“Have me,” Harry grunts, his thumb pressing to her bundle of nerves and groaning into her neck as her orgasm spills around him, milking his orgasm inside her warmth and squeezing him deeper, her thighs shaking around his hips. His mouth presses kisses into her cheeks as their orgasms wash over their bodies, her glossy eyes meeting his as he whispers, “you fucking have me.”

~

All of Harry’s thoughts are jumbled and in disarray as the café comes into view. Amelie’s mural is painted on the concrete wall opposite of where his car is parked, and his forehead rests against the steering wheel for a moment, trying to centre his thoughts and not make any unreasonable decisions. He isn’t quite sure what made him turn down the wrong street and go in the opposite direction of the café that he and his girlfriend – that feels so good to think and say – get their coffee and breakfast from.

Maybe it’s the anger. Maybe it’s the hurt for Amelie.

Harry was lying beside Amelie in their bed, brushing his fingers through her curls, his lips touching her hairline as she sleeps soundly in his warmth. His skin was sticky, sweat covering his forehead and his hair slightly damp, his chest slowly rising and falling with his breathing. He finally was where he wanted to be, with his favourite person, speckled purple bruises appearing across her skin. He was taking in the sight, the way her skin shone brightly under the sun and the quiet hum of her breathing was making his heart beat faster.

And then before Harry could fully process what he was thinking, anger was the only emotion speaking to him, overwhelming his thoughts, thinking about the beautiful woman tucked in his arms. He kissed her forehead, tucked the comforter tighter around her naked body, his fingers tightened the string of the loose-fitting shorts around his waist and shoved his feet into the trainers near their bedroom door, walking quietly out of their house. Harry didn’t want to worry Amelie. He wasn’t going to do anything stupid.

Until Harry was doing something stupid.

“Harry! How are you, mate? Saw Amelie the other day,” Jack smiles devilishly, and Harry’s fists clench together. Amelie described that smile, the one that is a stroke of mischievous and malicious, and Harry could see why his features would make her nervous on sight. “Lookin’ better than ever, isn’t she?”

“You and I need to talk outside,” Harry says through gritted teeth, his keys tucked in his back pocket, his wallet and phone abandoned in his car. “Now.”

“Don’t think we do, Harry.”

“Jack, I swear to God,” Harry grunts, rolling his eyes and folding his arms in front of his chest. He’s taller than Jack, a bit more built muscularly, but there is a tone behind every word that comes out of his mouth that is threatening.

“Be right back,” Jack mentions, two or three younger workers staring awkwardly and shockingly at the interaction happening. Harry walks outside first, barely holding the door for Jack to follow suit.

Harry walks around to the mural, standing a few feet away from Jack and creating their distance. Jack takes one wrong move and Harry is ready to knock him straight in the jaw and never look back. One for Amelie. One for Harry. “Alright,” Harry spits, pursing his lips together as his jaw tightens, the intensity lingering in the foggy January air swelling over. “Firstly, I’m not your mate, I will never be your mate. Secondly, how the fuck did you know Amelie would be at that bar, last night? Do you fucking follow her or summat?” Jack opens his mouth with a smirk, Harry’s hand immediately waving his answer off. “Don’t fucking answer that.”

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Jack shrugs, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it, moving to stand against the mural and setting the nicotine between his teeth. “That was just a coincidence. Good coincidence for me, but a coincidence nonetheless.”

“Wipe that fucking smirk off your face,” Harry growls, his bottom lip pinched painfully between his fingertips, his eyes a deep shade of green that would be unrecognisable to anyone that stared at him. “I swear to God, Jack, if you ever say anything to Amelie, again, if you go to see her, if you blink towards her, if you even breathe near her, I will not hesitate to break your fuckin’ jaw.”

Jack chuckles, flicking the ash and taking a drag, blowing the smoke directly outside of Harry’s vision. “Do you ever stop to ask yourself why she always comes here? Out of all the bakeries and cafés and coffee shops, Amelie keeps coming back here. Why is that?”

“Hasn’t come here in six months,” Harry retorts, laughing at his insinuation. Amelie’s gone to The Beachwood nearly every day since they moved in together in August. His mind is well aware that his words are meant to get a rise, and it’s scary how much it’s working on Harry’s temper. “Don’t feel fucking flattered. She liked the coffee and your mother, you fuckin’ prick.”

“Did you ever think it could be because Amy misses me?” Jack teases, pursing his lips and shrugging his shoulders, the cigarette burning with a sizzle under his fingertips. “Maybe, I treated her better.”

Harry is seething, his cheeks puffed out with panted breaths and tears pricking his eyes with how angry he is. “Don’t fucking call her that. After all you did to her,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head and twisting his heel in the pavement. “Left me, her boyfriend, to be the one to change everything. You’ve got to be fucking joking.”

“Could think of a few things we did together.”

“Jack, you’re fuckin’ treading on the thinnest ice.” Harry walks closer to Jack, laughing as the cigarette falls to the ground and smashes under his trainer, their chests barely missing each other, his breathing erratic as the anger builds inside of him. His fists are clenched, and his knuckles are white, and there is sudden gratitude for putting all his rings on his hand before leaving their house. Harry wanted it to hurt if anything were to happen. “One more thing is said, and it’s a promise that you’re done.”

“Harry, tell me, do you think it’s because I gave it to Amy better than you?” Jack taunts, his arms crossed in front of his chest as Harry’s fist begin to slink further up his body. His words make Harry want to vomit. “Bet Amelie thinks of me.”

And everything goes into darkness.

Harry swings, punching him swiftly in the jaw and the nose, shaking out his knuckles, his rings twisted on his fingers, the taunting boy planted on the tarmac, his back pressed against the mural on the wall as his mother comes barrelling outside. Jack struggles to stand, his nose bleeding heavily and an imprint of Harry’s rose ring on his cheek.

“Harry,” his mother gasps, her eyes wide and her hand covering her mouth at the sight of her son stumbling to stand on his feet, “what’s happened? I don’t like the look of this.”

Harry doesn’t know when he began crying, but there are tears on his cheeks and his breathing is erratic and there is a heaviness in his chest that could only be relieved by the girl sleeping beneath their duvet. His throat gulps a cry as he gathers his voice, the dark smile on Jack’s lips making his anger worsen. “Tell her what you did to Amelie. God knows you’ll live your life pretending it never happened, but you hurt her.” His voice is barely above a shout, the humming traffic and busy streets barely drawing attention to the two men fighting behind a café and an older woman trying to understand the reason. Harry refused to tell what happened – that wasn’t his story to tell – but he would make sure that someone told the truth. “Fuckin’ broke her down to bits.” Harry’s cheeks stained with tears, thinking about how broken his girlfriend was telling him what happened for the very first time. He’ll never erase the images of her face and the fear in her eyes when she told him what happened. “Amelie made me promise that I’d never tell anyone, but you should know that he did unspeakable things. He isn’t allowed near her, ever again.”

Harry looks at Sarah with a despaired expression on his features, a worried line written in his forehead, his lips pulled into a tight line and a nod acknowledging the end of their conversation. Her eyes travel between the two boys, fighting over malicious behaviours and abuse. “What have you done, Jack?” Her heart aches for the boy staring at her son, hatred in his eyes and a tear falling down his cheek.

Harry stalks away before their conversation can meet his ears, his fist clenching and unclenching to bring the feeling back. He angrily climbs into his car, locking the doors and taking in the sight in the mirror. His hair is falling out of the knot on his head, his knuckles red and bruised and bleeding, his rings scratching at the cuts made there.

Go home. Go home to your girl. Go home and love her.

Harry reaches for his phone, eyeing the five missed calls on his screen. His fingertip goes to click on Amelie’s contact, another call breaking through. He answers, bringing his phone to his ear as the engine in his car turns over and his head lays back against the headrest, his mind fully blank and his eyes seeing flashing colours.

“Harry,” Amelie sighs, “baby, I know where you are. Come home to me.”

Harry is sure that she’s only woken up a few minutes ago, the slight distance and rasp in her tone telling him so. “He deserved to have someone smack his face in,” Harry grits, hissing at the feeling of his thumb rubbing over his cut knuckle. “Fucking cunt.”

“Did you do something?”

“Yeah.” Harry can hear Amelie sigh disappointingly through the speaker. “Don’t know what he was saying to me, though, Ames. He deserved it.”

“You’re right,” Amelie agrees, breathing into the speaker and pausing to collect her thoughts, “and he does deserve that. But I’m here and I don’t want you getting hurt or in trouble.” Her silence is deafening to Harry. “Come home.”

“Don’t even know how I got here,” Harry breathes, looking at the café and the way the street is suddenly silent. “Honestly, I going to get us breakfast, and I looked up.”

“It’s okay,” Amelie breathes, her tone softening with her words, sensing the anxiety that is overwhelming Harry and trying to calm him. “You’re okay.”

Harry settles into his seat, shifting the gear and beginning to drive, his hand wiping away a tear and trying to gain composure of his emotions. “Coming home, now.”

“Good.”

Harry is seemingly mindless the entirety of the twenty-minute drive. All of his movements are done without intention, the directions and the attention and the calculated motions all felt without emotion and thought in his brain. His heart is heavy, aware that his actions might have caused harm to the only person that he cares about. He should’ve thought his actions through. He should’ve been more aware. Harry was just angry.

Going over all of the apologies in his head as he walks inside, Harry chokes out a breath as Amelie wraps her arms around his shoulders, bringing her into his chest and holding him tightly, his hand barely able to reach and shut the door behind them as he melts into her embrace. “Hey, baby.” His lips touch her neck as she hugs him tighter. “God, it feels good to have you in m’arms, again.”

“I love you,” Amelie says, gently coaxing Harry’s face out of her neck.

“Feels better to hear you say that,” Harry sighs, kissing her sweetly and squeezing his arms tighter around her waist. “I love you more.”

“Come on,” she smiles, kissing his cheek and interlocking their fingers, squeezing his hand, her eyes trying to avoid the cuts and scrapes covering his knuckles. “I’ll make you a coffee.”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot to handle in the kitchen,” he teases, tossing his phone and wallet and keys onto the side table and following her into the kitchen, his heart swelling as he takes in her minimal appearance – the vintage shirt that she wore on their first date and a simple pair of cotton panties on her hips – and the comfortability that she has with him. That’s all Harry wants.

“Considering I’m making lunch, right now, I don’t think it’s all too much to handle,” Amelie giggles, wiggling her eyebrows and rolling her eyes as Harry tucks his arm around her waist, clinging to her as she pours him a mug and walks towards the toasty press that his mother bought for the holidays.

“Lunch, hm? How fancy of you,” Harry hums, releasing her and moving to sit on the freshly painted stool near the island, amused at the way there was always a sense of fear whenever Amelie was in the kitchen.

Amelie turns over her shoulder with a pointed stare, her eyes squinting at Harry as his lips tug into a smirk and hide a laugh. “Don’t just stand there if you know I’m going to ruin it.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, love.” Harry sets the mug on the counter and uses the tongs to pull the toasty out of the press. “How do you burn everything?”

“Good question,” she says, sipping quietly from her straw and staring at her boyfriend as he walks around her to clean the mess she’s made of their lunch. “Have to have you cook for a reason.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” Harry says, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his chest, his hand over her tummy, frustratedly unplugging the machine and bringing out the menu for delivery. “Fuck it, I’m ordering pizza. This is hopeless.”

“Have to clean your hand, Harry,” Amelie whispers, her fingertips running over the bruised and distressed skin, dried blood accumulated across his knuckles.

Harry shakes his head, kissing her hair and taking Amelie’s phone to ring the restaurant. His eyes widen as she takes the phone from his hands, setting it on the opposite side of the counter. “’s fine, angel.”

“Baby.”

Harry and Amelie stare at each other for a minute or two, silently arguing over who would win this argument. Her arms wrap around his waist, her cheek lying against his chest, her fingers gripping his waist in a tight hug, silently hoping that he’ll give in to her. She doesn’t want to know what was said to him, but she has to. Harry needs to hear that it isn’t true, that whatever thoughts were put in his head aren’t real. There wasn’t anyone to say that to her, and she refuses to let him ruin their relationship. Harry is everything to Amelie, and there isn’t anyone that’s going to get in the way of that.

He silently kisses her hair, squeezing her hip and telling her that she can lead the way. Hand in hand, they walk into their bedroom and to the bathroom, Harry sitting on the toilet and leaving his hand over the counter for Amelie to clean and bandage the right way. Her silence is overwhelming, and Harry wonders if she’s angry with him.

“Tell me what Jack said to you.”

His chin lifts from his chest, “Doesn’t matter,”

“Harry,” Amelie sighs, tears pricking her eyes as Harry winces with the sting of the peroxide, “tell me. That’s the only way I can tell you that he is wrong.”

He thinks for a moment and tears well in his eyes as he thinks about all that was said to him. “Coughed up saying you miss him and miss being with him,” Harry whispers, a tear falling down his cheek in betrayal. “Fuck.”

“Harry, baby,” she says, her thumb gently wiping his cheeks, her fingertips ghosting over his bruised knuckles.

“Can’t stop seeing you, fucking sixteen and abused by this prick, and he has the audacity to say those things to me,” he whimpers, stealing his hand away and covering his face, his elbows on his knees, his mouth covered by the heels of his hands. “Can’t stop seeing it. Need it to stop.”

Amelie’s cheeks flush with a heat of anger. “Bébé, bisous, s’il vous plait. Je t'aime. Putain, je t'aime. J'ai besoin qu'on oublie toutes ces choses qu'il a dites. Je veux l'oublier.” Her gentle voice is hurried and melodic, her hands prying away his from his face and bringing his eyes to meet hers. “Bisous. S'il vous plaît.”

Baby, kiss me. I love you. I fucking love you. I need us to forget all those things he said. I want to forget it. Kiss me. Please.

Harry’s hands grasp Amelie’s cheeks, their lips melting to each other and their tongues tasting the salty tears falling onto their skin. Her fingers grip onto his shirt, her thighs straddling his waist and her eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his hands roam across her figure. “Je ne te ferais jamais de mal, tu le sais, n'est-ce pas? J'ai besoin de savoir que tu le sais.” Harry stands, holding his arms under her and walking into their bedroom, their lips melted into a rhythm as they kiss and share their unspoken love, taking away all that was ever said against them. All that there is in this moment is Harry and Amelie.

I would never hurt you, you know that, right? I need to know that you know that.

“Oui, je sais.”

Harry lays Amelie gently on their unmade mattress, gently kissing along her jaw and neck, his hands lifting her shirt to kiss the pudge at her hips. “Need to kiss where he hurt,” he whispers against her skin, his mouth trailing wet kisses on her inner thighs and the tattoos that cover her legs. “Need to erase all that hurt from you.”

“Can’t you realise that you have? Made me see that I’m so much more than what happened,” Amelie whimpers, her thumbs running over his lips as his chest lays against her, her legs wrapped around his waist and his forearms beside her head to carry his weight. Kissing over his cheeks, his jaw, his lips, she says, “I love you. I do.”

“Love you,” Harry murmurs against her lips, soaking in the way her warmth encompasses him, “Love you to the planets that haven’t even discovered yet and wherever the hell you are. Would go to the ends of the Earth for you.”

“Know you would,” Amelie smiles, gently nudging their bodies forward and her fingertips prying her shirt away from her torso, leaving her skin naked and bare to Harry’s eyes. “Don’t you think I’d meet you halfway?”

“Know you would.” Harry smiles, kissing Amelie’s belly as his fingertips tug the cotton down her thighs and her fingers pull his shirt over his head messily. All of their kisses are messy, and their teeth are gnashing, and lips are being bitten in the sweetest way, the way that means they love each other so deeply and unconditionally that there is nothing else in the world that matters except their way their hands are touching each other.

And then Amelie’s phone starts vibrating.

Harry groans, his hands squeezing Amelie’s hips and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips to try and persuade her. “Don’t want to answer it.” His breath is hot against her mouth, intoxicating and making her want to ignore the call. “Ignore it.”

“Harry,” Amelie whines, “Could be Jenny in labour.”

“Fine.” Harry reaches for Amelie’s phone, swinging his leg over her thighs and settling on the edge of the mattress, his hand reaching out to make her wait as she goes to grab her shirt. “Don’t get dressed, yet.”

His fingertip slides on the bottom of the screen, their best friend’s voice echoing through the speaker and making a smile come to Amelie’s features. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, her cheek lying against his bare back as she snuggles into him. “Don’t care if you two are in the middle of doing it,” Jenny says, breathing heavily and groaning as a contraction begins to wash over her. “Have to get to the hospital because I’m in labour.”

Harry’s eyes roll at the way Amelie smirks at him, her fingertips tickling his tummy as he squeezes her hands. “Ha.”

“Holy shit,” Harry breathes, “Alright. We’ll be there soon.”

“Told you,” Amelie giggles as Harry hangs up the phone, laying on her back and tugging at his hand as his head turns over his shoulder, his eyes meeting hers. “Better make this fast.”

Harry cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows rising and his eyes blinking rapidly to ensure that he really heard her correctly. “Doll.”

“Baby.”

Harry stares at Amelie in awe. Her smile is spread across her lips and her eyes are narrow as she desperately tries to persuade him to bury beneath the comforter with her, to have his skin melting into hers, to kiss her and pretend that they are the only thing in the universe that matters. His heart is pounding so heavily in his chest because she is the only thing in the universe that matters to him. Amelie is everything – all the colours, the stars, the sun and the moon, the songs and lyrics and melodies, the art and literature and the good and the bad. Amelie is all of that and more.

“I love you.”

Amelie grins, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him sweetly. “I love you. Always.”